


Of Ice And Kin

by NeverFalling



Series: Jötunn Slushies [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU as of Infinity War, Except maybe Korg, Gen, General bigotry and douchbaggery on all sides, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Loki's death spiral of self hatred, Magical Theory, Mentor/Protégé, Nobody is happy with the situation, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor's neverending sighs of frustration, Valkyrie's short temper, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverFalling/pseuds/NeverFalling
Summary: "Because a monster does not have a right to life. It must earn it."Loki's position amongst the Asgardian refugees is precarious, but it's getting better. That is, until two Frost Giants come aboard. Now all eyes are on the Traitor Prince, theJötunnPrince, and Loki wants nothing more than to distance himself from the monsters in the hold.If only the youngest monster would mind its own business.





	1. In which some double-dealing bites Loki in the Às

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Peeling Back Pale Masks" and "Frost and Save Face." You don't have to read those first but it wouldn't hurt. ;P
> 
> I also feel I should warn you, there's a lot of not-so-nice things said and done throughout this story. No one in this is 100% a saint, least of all Loki. So, warnings for racism and intersexphobia apply.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154688600@N07/41619274805/in/dateposted/)

_Five months..._

Loki slouched at the plexiglass table, head on his fist, staring down the grimy wall opposite. The incessant drone of voices lulled him into a state of meditative irritation.

“Loki!”

“What?” He didn’t look at Thor. He was tired of looking at Thor. He was tired of listening to Thor. When would the oaf stop talking?

“Pay attention!”

“I am paying attention.”

“Then what did I just say?” Thor stood at the head of the council room, hands braced against the table and framed by the arched windows behind. The overheads drizzled him in an impersonal blue glow, washing out his usual gold and red.

“Pay attention,” Loki drawled.

Thor growled, Valkyrie snorted, and Heimdall said nothing as he stood by the windows, gazing at the stars beyond.

“Loki!”

“Oh!” Korg cut in, interrupting Thor’s rising anger. “I get it! Because that _is_ what you just said. Very clever!”

“Thank you,” Loki drawled.

_Five months._

Five ruddy months adrift in Yggdrasil’s branches and seven more before they would reach Midgard. They had cut to one third rations two months ago, half rations three weeks ago. Each time Thor had announced the bad news, the Asgardian populace had born it without complaint, jaws set and heads held high. Their actions betrayed their stoicism, however, with the number of violent altercations rising with their hunger. And the less said of the Sakaarans the better. If things continued as they were, he suspected things might turn deadly.

At least then they’d have fewer mouths to feed…

“Look,” Valkyrie said, leaning back in her chair. “We can plan as much as we want. Fact is, as soon as we dock all of our planning’s going to be shit.”

“You don’t know that,” Thor argued. “If we can just--”

“I do know that,” she said, “because Vertex is an unlicensed station filled with the dickheads all the other slum stations kicked out.”

“Which is precisely why we need a plan!” Thor pounded his fist on the table, the impact bouncing his stylus to the floor.

“Oh, I’ll get that,” the Kronon said, fumbling for the lost instrument. Thor ignored him.

“Vertex is our last hope,” Thor continued. “If they, too, are uncaring to our plight, then we will have nothing. We haven't enough fuel to reach the next port and certainly not enough supplies. If we fail now,” Thor paused, drumming up the drama for his next words. “Asgard will die.”

Loki rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Damnit, Loki! This is serious!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.”

“Well,” Valkyrie spoke over the rising hum of Thor’s anger, the static beginning to stand his hair on end. “I can tell you right now they won’t be happy to see us. These aren’t the sort who’re keen on kings and rule. In fact, I’d describe them as fans of treason and regicide.”

“Oh,” Korg hummed. He’d given up on retrieving the stylus. “Might not be a good idea to send Thor down, then, yeah? Him being King and all?”

Thor scrubbed his hands over his face, forgetting his new eyepatch. Heimdall spoke up as Thor fumbled to replace his eyewear.

“The king should remain on board. I look upon the station now. There are no Æsir within its halls and many races who view Asgard unfavorably. King Thor will be recognized and he will be met with hostility.”

Thor sighed. “So what do you suggest?”

“Do not send any Às crew members to bargain at port. We must send a representative of another race.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked to Korg, sitting hunched in a chair too small for his notable size.

“Oh, me?” He placed a hand on his chest. “I’d be honored.”

“No.” Loki finally sat up, called to action in the face of such stupidity. “If we send the Kronan on our behalf he’ll trade all of our worldly goods for a bag of beans.”

“Well,” Korg said, “I don’t think one bag’ll be enough for everyone, but you’re the boss!”

Loki swept his hand towards the rock creature, mouth a thin line. _‘See?’_

“Shoot.” Valkyrie leant back still further in her seat, plunking her boots on the table. “If only we had another big, blue lout famed for his negotiation skills and with a history of dealing with the scourge of the realms…”

Korg frowned at the table. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Thor and Valkyrie were now staring at Loki and he didn’t care for it. Loki turned a withering glare on the warrior woman. They’d been training together for near a month, exploring his Jötunn abilities. That did not mean he would allow her to discuss his other form in polite company.

Thor, for once sensing the need for diplomacy, hedged, “perhaps you could cast an illusion? Take on the guise of a Vanr?”

Heimdall spoke up, “the Vanir would be unwelcome as well.”

“Then… perhaps an elf--?”

“Oh, shut up!” Loki snapped. “I’ll get your ruddy supplies.”

Thor sighed again, this time in relief. “Thank you, Brother.”

“You can thank me with double rations. When do we arrive?”

“Three hours,” Heimdall said, eyes still trained on the stars.

“Great,” Loki drawled.

“Oh, fantastic! I'll pack a picnic,” Korg said, grinning brightly. “I know a lovely recipe for tarts. Course, I’ll have to improvise, us not having any brakenstone or, well, much of anything really.”

“You’re not coming,” Loki snapped.

“Well, of course I’m coming! Miek, too. You heard what Ms. Valkyrie said, that place is dangerous. Can’t have you going down there all by yourself. What if something happened? If someone bopped you on the head or the like?” He gasped, “what if you got kidnapped? I’d never forgive meself if you didn’t come back.”

Loki’s expression grew sour, then more so as he caught Thor trying to hide a creeping grin.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Yup!” Korg said. “Because you’ll have me an Miek at your side! Always there, stuck like burrs!”

“Yes,” Thor choked out, his cheeks red and voice tight. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Korg! I’m sure you’ll do a wondrous job keeping my little brother safe.”

Now Valkyrie was snorting, too, and Loki swore even Heimdall was fighting back a smirk.

“Fantastic!” Korg said, clapping his hands. He rose from the table, his chair giving a sad groan as he stood. “I’ll go get Miek. See you in three, Mr. Loki!”

“It’s Prince Loki you--” Loki shouted after him, but the Kronan was already gone. He continued under his breath, “you igneous idiot.”

 

~~~

 

“You’ve got the trade list?”

“Yes, Thor.”

“And the supply list?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Yes, of course, I’m just--” Thor heaved a great sigh, his shoulders slumping. “There is so much that could go wrong.”

Loki took pity on the young king. Grasping Thor’s arm in one hand, his cheek in the other, Loki caught his brother’s gaze with his own. “It will be fine, Thor. There’s no one better in all the realms to bargain on your behalf.”

Thor let out a tight laugh, nodding. “True.” His expression turned serious. “But no gambling!”

“So quick to judge!” Loki laughed, stepping back. “I could get us everything we need for free--”

“No,” Thor poked Loki in the chest, “gambling.”

“As you wish,” Loki said, hands raised.

Around them, Æsir and Sakaaran crew members worked to prepare for trade. Anything nonessential and with some worth had been moved into the loading bay, ready to be bartered for food, water, and fuel. They waited only for the go-ahead from Vertex to dock.

“All set, Mr. Loki, Mr. King!” Korg trotted into the loading bay, Valkyrie at his side, Miek bouncing on his back. They hadn’t the equipment to fix the Sakaaran’s prosthetics, so Korg had rigged up a harness for the sluggy creature. It squeaked joyfully, knives flashing in the bay’s flickering light.

“Ah, my friends! You’re just in time!” Thor said, enthusiastically.

“Yippie,” Loki said, less enthusiastically.

“Had to make sure we had everything for the trip,” Korg said, rummaging through a large bag slung from one shoulder. “Money. Extra shopping bags. Water bottles. Snacks. Booties, in case Miek gets cold.” Miek thrilled at this, waving its many legs. “Mittens, in case you get cold.” Korg held up what appeared to be hand-knitted, yellow gloves. “And a map of Vanaheim, because you never know.”

“That’s…” Thor searched for something to say. “Good. Very good. I’m glad you are planning ahead.”

Korg beamed.

“Heimdall sends word from the bridge,” Valkyrie said, stepping forward. “We’re cleared to dock.” She turned to eye Loki, still in his Às form. “Where’s your costume?”

“I’ll change when the rabble clears out,” he said, jerking his chin towards the deckhands.

“Aww, you shy?” Valkyrie cooed, poking him in the ribs. “You shy? Are you?”

“Quit it. Quit it!” He batted her hands away, but Valkyrie didn’t let up, drawing him into a slapping match.

“All right, enough,” Thor said, positioning himself between the two. He gained a slap from either side for his efforts. Thor raised his voice for the rest of the bay, “everyone out! We’re ready to dock!”

The deckhands secured their cargo and filtered out, avoiding the large double doors to the left. Hulk had taken up residence there, in the main cargo bay, and few wished to brave his presence.

“Better?” Thor asked, turning to Loki, but his brother merely stood with arms crossed. “What?”

“I said I’d change when the rabble cleared.”

Thor scanned the empty bay, then noticed Loki’s gaze stayed firmly on him. “What, me? I’ve seen you shift thousands of times!”

Loki merely narrowed his eyes.

“I told you he’s shy,” Valkyrie said, her grin mocking.

“No worries,” Korg said. “I understand. We’ll just turn around, yeah?” He did so, Miek swinging around on his back to now face the group. It wiggled it’s arms.

Thor threw up his hands, shaking his head. “Fine! Do as you wish. Come,” he waved Valkyrie to follow as he moved to leave, but she remained.

“Oh,” Loki said. “She’s not rabble.”

Thor glanced between the two, both wearing smirks designed to needle. He gave up, turning for the door. “Children, the both of you.”

“Later, your highness!” Valkyrie called. She received a rude gesture in return. Laughing, she turned back to Loki. “You’re such an ass.”

“Mm,” he agreed, watching the bay doors close behind his brother. To be honest, he hadn’t demanded privacy merely to vex Thor. Though his brother knew of Loki’s origins, he’d never seen the truth of it with his own eyes. Blue skin, red eyes, curving horns, it was not a pretty sight.

Thor had been… distant, since discovering the truth. Granted, much of that could be attributed to their disastrous fight on the Bifrost. And their disastrous fight on Midgard. And then that disastrous fight on Svartalfheim. And perhaps the disastrous fights in the palace, Sakaar, and then the Bifrost again. But still.

It wasn’t just that. Thor was very open about his displeasure with Loki’s actions these past few years. Loudly and vocally open. This was different. This was the furtive glances Thor sent his way when Jötunheim was mentioned in casual conversation, the way his laughter at Giant Jokes cut off halfway through, the way he choked and backtracted when he’d said he was glad Loki was wearing green again because blue wasn’t his color.

At that last one, Loki had been caught between laughing at Thor’s embarrassment and punching his nose in.

“Right,” Valkyrie slapped Loki between the shoulderblades. He fought not to stumble under the blow. “Shit or get off the pot. We’re almost docked.

Loki sighed, but began shifting his form. It was getting easier, flitting between his familier Às skin and Jötunn. It had been difficult, at first, after removing Odin’s charm. His body hadn’t wanted to return to the false form he’d worn for so many years. But with Valkyrie’s help, he’d found a balance, allowing him to walk as an Às during the day and rest as a Jötunn in the evening.

(He hadn’t asked for her help and she hadn’t asked if he wanted it. She simply thrusted it upon him as one assigned chores to a child.)

He let out a shaky breath and eyed the doorway Thor had disappeared through. Standing here, exposed, where any Às might wonder through… It was difficult.

“What’s this?” Valkyrie demanded, gesturing to Loki’s garments.

“What?” he asked. He’d magicked his tunic and boots to storage (this form quickly grew too warm under too many layers) and lain an illusion over his britches. He now appeared to wear the leather kilts he’d seen the Jötnar sport on Thor’s poorly thought out voyage to Jötunheim. It was more… revealing then he’d like, but he was certain he’d gotten the details correct.

“You look like a royal guard. What the fuck would the king’s retinue be doing in a middle of a nowhere slum-station?”

“Uh--” He waved his hands, unsure. He hadn’t realized an unadorned kilt could count as a uniform.

“Here,” she said. “Add a few layers. Put some colored trim, red or orange, along here and here. Think something between Northern Midgard and Uthflur Dwarf.”

He adjusted the illusion as she instructed, making it longer and less plain, incorporating tassels and layered cloths. A pouch hung from his hips, a woven armband about his biceps, a necklace of hack-silver. Eventually the Valkyrie nodded.

“All right,” she said, looking him over.” You look… not terrible.”

Loki huffed.

“I think you look quite striking!” Korg said. He’d turned back around and was now smiling at Loki’s new look. “Though, if you’re going for Frost Giant, you might want to go a bit taller. They are giants, after all.”

Loki growled. “This isn’t an illusion, this is my natural form.”

Though Loki was taller as a Jötunn than an Às, he was still noticeably shorter than the average Giant. Loki suspected he stood a head above Thor now, though he was disappointed to note, not quite as tall as the Kronan.

“Oh,” Korg blinked. “Is that why you were embarrassed to change before?”

“No, I was--”

“Well, don’t worry!” The Kronan continued over Loki’s denials. “I won’t judge! I’m short myself. It’s true! Most Kronan are a good 7’11”, or even 8 foot. But I’m only 7’10”. My cousins never let me live it down.”

Loki grit his teeth and turned to Valkyrie. “Must he come?”

She laughed and slapped him on the arm.

  
~~~

 

Loki, Korg, and Miek stepped from the gangway onto the station’s docks. The sounds and smells of hundreds of different species spilled over them in a miasma of colors, shouting, and bustling barter. Valkyrie, being Às (uncouth and boorish, but Às), remained behind. She shouted a final ‘be good!’ before slapping the control panel to her right, the ship’s gangway sliding back into place, a wall between the Asgardians and this crime-ridden slum.

The dockyard stretched for countless stories above and below, ships of all sizes and colors anchored to the many docks snaking from the mainway. The S.S. Asgard, being a fairly large vessel, was moored towards the farther reaches, close to the atmospheric barrier. Ships passed through the enormous forcefield, bringing illicit goods to and from the harbor.

Loki had been to interstellar trading posts before, but those had either been properly licensed or were much smaller. He’d never set foot in one so large that flaunted its lawlessness so proudly. He passed crates of Boverik Reeds, smuggled Lotherian pottery, a dozen Chesking Spitter cubs bound and headed for market. Heimdall was right to advise caution, Asgard had restricted or outlawed many of these goods and services and strictly enforced such measures throughout the Nine Realms. Undoubtedly, an Às setting foot on Vertex Station would quickly… disappear.

But Loki gained only a few odd glances here and there, which he attributed more to his unusual retinue (and perhaps his short stature) than his race. While the Jötnar were citizens of the Nine Realms, it was well known they were reluctant citizens.

Loki lead them through the docks, dodging multi-limbed deckhands and sparking maintenance drones. The markets were further in, towards the center of the spindle-shaped station. It wasn’t difficult to find, a steady flow of goods and merchants lead them through crowded corridors and packet elevators. Navigating the traffic was irritating, carts ran over toes, implike Gublings presented a tripping hazard as they darted between legs, and brutish Argots trundled through the crowd like slow moving avalanches. Loki’s preferred method of moving through such crowds— dodging and weaving with the occasional application of an elbow or two— didn’t work as well with his new height, and he found himself getting shoved and pushed this way and that. Korg, though, had no such difficulty, pressing through the hubbub with a jolly stride. Loki fell back to walk in the rock monster’s wake.

Eventually the stream of people and creatures poured into the market halls. Stalls and booths cluttered the corridors, selling everything from herbs to explosives. They passed a tent selling spices that tickled Loki’s nose unpleasantly, another with devices designed to pick locks. Korg commented on the sights with an easy smile, pointing at odds and ends he thought Miek might enjoy. Miek babbled something that the Alltongue had trouble translating, but it seemed to have to do with articulated rotors.

Loki peered over the Kronan’s shoulder, avoiding Miek’s folded knives, scanning the stalls. He tapped his companion and raised his voice over the market’s chatter. “Over there, the booth of wires!” He pointed.

“Right away, Boss!”

Loki talked his way from booth to stall to cloistered counter, overselling Asgard’s junk and undercutting merchants’ wares. He focused on foodstuffs first, then medical supplies, then items for maintenance and repairs. Thor had been quite adamant he barter for fuel, too, but Loki saved that for last. Though tricky, he was confident he could use the Tesseract to recharge the ship’s fusion cells. He couldn’t do it too often, or take too long, less he gain the attention of… Well, best not to think of it. But there wasn’t any way he could get everything on Thor’s list AND fuel. He wasn’t curtained he’d be able to secure even all the food they’d need. No, Loki would draw up a fake contract for ‘supercharged cells’ and present it to his brother with a smile.

He’d just finished trading some rare Asgardian scrolls (actually air duct maintenance manuals, but the Kivik merchant was unlikely to know Sakaaran script from Asgardian), and was arranging to meet the merchant at the docks that evening when a shout rang out behind him.

“Oy! Ya blue bastard!”

Loki turned to find an entourage of seven Ergons glaring at him. Scarlet skinned and fang-mouthed with a mane of black spines shivering along their broad shoulders, the Ergons were not a pleasant race to look upon and even less pleasant to deal with. The crowd of shoppers, wanting not to be caught in their wrath, drew away from the armed and snarling group.

“Not here, not here!” The Kivik merchant pleaded, but no one was paying her attention.

“Where’s my money?” The largest of the Ergons stepped forward, his golden eyes locked on Loki’s own.

“You know these fellows?” Korg asked.

“No,” Loki said, eyeing the ruddy brutes. He’d never seen them before.

“They seem to know you.”

“They’re mistaken.”

Loki addressed the Ergons. “I’ve no quarrel with you. Be gone.”

“Bo gone, it says,” the leader growled, shaking the spines along his back so they clattered and clicked. “We go nowhere until you pay. With money, or with blood.” It hefted a rifle, mismatched tubing running the gun’s length, gas canisters slotted into its side.

Loki felt ice begin to collect along his arms and hands in response to his quickening pulse. He tried to tamp it down. Energy could neither be created nor destroyed, and Jötnar ‘created’ cold by leaching heat from their surroundings. Forming too much ice here, in the muggy market, would overheat his core.

“You know,” Korg said, “this seems like some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe we could talk it out? Over tea?”

“How about,” the Ergon said, yanking a lever on his weapon, “over barbecue.”

A gout of flame burst from the nozzle, aimed for Loki’s chest. Loki, though, had plenty of experience with fire, both using it and defending against it. The sorcerer stepped to the side, drawing the flames in a curving arch past his person, where they fell upon the Kivik’s stall. Loki had used this method of redirection countless times, the heat of the fire dancing along his palms. Of course, those times he’d been in his Às skin. Now, though, his Jötunn flesh drew the heat into itself like a sponge, searing his palms.

Korg flung himself into the Ergon’s side, knocking the flamethrower askew. Shoppers screamed as the flames washed over the crowd. The other Ergons jumped to their leader’s aid, pulling curved blades on the larger Kronan. Miek raised its own knives, slashing from Korg’s back as the Kronan spun and punched.

Loki felt as if he’d scraped the skin of his hands clean off, the lighter blue of his palms now an ugly mottled purple. Casting with his fingers so wounded would be near impossible. Loki held them close to his chest. The heat of the burning stall behind him was overpowering and the smoke of melting plastics stung his eyes.

One of the Ergons broke from the fight with Korg, its knives flashing in the firelight. Loki, his hands useless, was forced to dodge, but the scarlet thug corralled him towards the scalding stall. The Ergon raised its blades, ready to drive them under Loki’s ribs, but Loki delivered a kick to the creature’s knee, folding it with a crunch. The Ergon stumbled forward with a howl and, without thought, Loki headbutted it in the snout, driving the bone into its skull. It crumpled to the floor, twitching.

That… worked rather well. Perhaps these horns weren’t mere decoration.

The leader was bringing its rifle around again, waiting for a clear shot on Korg. Loki hunched forward and, with a yell, charged. He slammed into the creature skull first, bone against thick muscle. The Ergon, even heavier than his bulky frame appeared, didn’t go down, though he did stumble. The Ergon grabbed Loki about the shoulders, one armed, and tried to throw him off, but Loki twisted and caught some scarlet flesh with the point of a horn.

The creature screeched, digging claws into Loki’s collar bone, and Loki responded by gauging at its yellow eye. Battle-fogged, he’d forgotten the burns on his hands, and they sung with pain as the skin peeled against the Ergon’s ridged face. The pain drew frost to his skin, though, and the Ergon screeched again as frostbite bloomed wherever it still touched his Jötunn hide.

It released Loki and stumbled back, Loki himself falling to his knees. Korg flung his fists through the remaining Ergons, Miek slicing anything that came within reach. Two of the brutes lay dead on the market floor, trampled beneath stomping feet.

Loki pushed himself to stand, panting in the overwhelming heat, drawing energy to his fingers. He wouldn’t be able to cast anything complicated, nor wield a weapon, but he could throw bolts of force if nothing else.

A booming shout shook the combatants and suddenly a wave of ice cut through the melee, spearing an Ergon and trapping another. Korg grabbed a third by the head, slamming it face first into the floor and leaving it to twitch. The Ergons’ leader stood alone, blinking against frostbitten eyelids and waving its flamethrower between Loki and this new threat.

A Frost Giant, a properly giant Giant, stood a dozen feat away. Its head was shaved and its gray horns curved flush with its skull, much like those Loki had faced on Jötunheim. Its clothes, though, were different, a kilt of black and tan and a single-shouldered drape with yellow frey along the edges. It snarled, stalking towards the Ergon.

“You,” the Ergon said, stumbling back.

“Me,” the Jötunn growled. It stood head and shoulders over the Ergon, dwarfing even Korg as it strode by.

“You owe us money! You-- I came to collect! I--”

“A fortnight.”

“What?”

“I was to pay you in a fortnight.”

“Yes! Yes! Four nights!” The Ergon shouted, jabbing a finger at the Giant’s sternum. “And it has been eight nights! You owe us!”

“A fortnight means two,” the Giant held up two fingers beneath the Ergon’s quivering snout, “weeks. Not four nights.”

“It-- I, we--” the creature glanced about, unsure. “Does it?”

“Yup, it’s true,” Korg piped up, Miek squeaking in agreement.”

“Ah.” The Ergon still looked unsure but, taking in the wreckage of its crew, backed down. “Yes, fine. You’ve-- you’ve six more nights then. Right.”

The Giant turned its back on the Ergon, a throaty thrum of irritation rumbling through the air. It’s blood red eyes fell on Loki. “The Station’s enforcers will arrive shortly. You do not wish to be here when they do. Come.”

The Jötunn turned back the way it came, the crowd parting for it.

“Aren’t you coming?” Korg asked. He’d made to follow the Jötunn, but paused when he noticed Loki’s hesitation.

Loki glanced around, taking in the fire, angry stall owners, glaring crowd, and the barely restrained hostility of those Ergons not dead or dying.

It was a hard decision.

“Fine.”

 

~~~

 

The Frost Giant lead them through back halls to the lower levels. Here, the old and worn craftsmanship of the station main gave way to to a haphazard patchwork of different metals, plastics, and exposed wiring. Clearly the remains of hundreds of scrapped ships, the lower levels were in turn drafty and broiling from one hallway to the next. Walkways creaked and pieces of the outer hull rattled ominously. Beings of various races huddled in alcoves or scuttled into dirty tents, eying the Giant wearily. What little law and order there may have been in the floors above clearly did not reach into this shanty town.

They entered a sizable room, dimly lit by a string of lights hung from the ceiling. A couple black and purple orcanoid beings lounged on stained pillows against one wall. They gurgled, blowing rings of smoke above their heads. The Frost Giant paid the aliens no mind as it passed, dropping its leather rucksack into an alcove in the room’s far end.

Another Giant stood as they entered, shorter than the first, and slight of build. It’s clothes were much like the first, but it wore its white hair long and braided and its horns formed a crownlike ridge along its hairline. Judging by its stature and gangly limbs, Loki figured it was an adolescent.

(And even still, it was taller than Loki!)

It’s eyes landed on Loki with surprise. It composed itself before rushing to a pile of storage bins in the corner, digging through their contents. The larger Giant waved Loki and his companions in, settling onto the dusty mats lain upon the floor.

“I did not expect to see another Jötunn so far from home,” it’s voice rumbled through the room, mingling with the hum of distant engines.

“I am surprised as well.” Loki stood with his arms folded in the small of his back, stance wide. The Jötnar hadn’t been hostile so far, but Loki wouldn’t let his guard slip.

Korg held no such reservations, folding to the floor opposite the Giant and slinging Miek off his back. The stubby Sakaaran stretched its pseudopods, squeaking.

“From where do you travel?” the Giant asked.

“Sakaar,” Loki answered.

“Yes,” Korg added, “we staged a rebellion! Overthrew the local government and everything!”

The Giant ‘hmmed,’ rubbing it’s jaw in thought.

The younger Jötunn padded over, clutching some brightly colored packages. It spoke to the first (its father?) as it handed them out. “Those insect fellows we met in the canteen were from Sakaar.” It settled next to its sire, popping its own packet open. Some sort of nutri-bar, apparently.

“Ah, yes. The trash planet.”

“Yup,” Korg said. “That’s the one! I’m Korg, by the way. And this is Miek. And that’s--”

“Loptr,” Loki cut in.

“Oh,” Korg blinked. “Is that how you say it? I’ve been saying it all wrong.” He turned back to the Giants. “What about you guys?”

“Muthrun,” the larger one said, touching its chest, then swept its hand to the younger. “Juri.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Korg smiled.

“And you,” Murthrun nodded. “Tell me, Korg, where do you travel now?”

Korg looked about to answer, but Loki spoke first. “Away. Somewhere we can start over.”

“Yup!” Korg unwrapped his food bar carefully. “We’re stopping in here for supplies. It’s a long trip to Midgard.”

The Giants went still, gaze flickering from Korg to Loki. Loki did his best to keep his frustration from his face but the sealed nutri-bar popped open as his grip spasmed.

“Midgard?” The older Giant asked. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“It is one of several possibilities. And what of you?”

“We seek refuge as well,” it said. “When were you last on Jötunheim?”

“Ah,” Loki said, breaking off a chunk of the nutri-bar. It had a dusty smell to it. “Several years ago. And only briefly.”

“Mm,” the Giant nodded. “You are aware of Asgard’s assault six years ago?”

“I had… heard of it.”

“The capital was destroyed. The House of Vultnir seized on the chaos and declared Nuyina the new king. But those loyal to Helblindi would not bow. The war has been raging since. All the while, the planet falls further into ruin. Whatever weapon Asgard used to set the skies ablaze has hastened Jötunheim’s fall. The ice rots beneath your feet, the lichenmoss eats through the forests and the waters grow foul. The elders pray for balance, but they are fools. There is no mercy to be found amongst the spirits.”

“I bargained with the Dwarves for passage offworld through their trade routes, but there is no place for us in their forges. We have been trading our way from place to place since, until…” it waved a hand at their surroundings, the dingy air and meager accommodations. The Orcanoids giggled in the far corner, filling the room with their acrid smoke.

“Oh, that’s horrible,” Korg said. Miek agreed with a sad squeak. The Kronan perked up. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“No!” Loki burst out, then softened his tone as their eyes turned to him. “Eh heh, that is, we would love to have you. Truly. But we’ve not enough supplies as it is. Two more mouths to feed, especially such… large mouths, we simply wouldn't be able to accommodate.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Korg said. “To resupply!”

“Yes, and I’ve barely managed a month’s worth of fare,” Loki snarled, frustrated. “At this rate, we’ll have to resort to cannibalism just to make it the next port, let alone anywhere habitable.”

“I thought you had things in hand. Didn’t you, Miek?” Korg turned to his companion, who gurgled.

The two Giants watched the exchange, Muthrun blank-faced, Juri with raised brows.

“Well what do you expect?” Loki demanded, pulling out the trade lists Thor had given him. “I’m pedaling junk! We’re lucky I’ve secured as much as I have. Especially with the ridiculous prices these snakes are demanding! Do you have any idea what kind of--”

“How much do you need?” Muthrun asked.

“What?” Loki stopped his tirade to glance at the Giant.

“How much food do you need?”

“I—uh,” There were two thousand seven hundred and eight Æsir on the ship, three hundred and forty nine Sakaarans, and one Hulk. Most of the Sakaarans ate less than the average Às, but the Hulk more than made up for any food saved that way. The average Asgardian could put away 10,000 calories of food per day but could subsist off about 3,500 if necessary.

Loki studied the nutria-bar he’d been given. It didn’t list any nutritional facts but the writing was in Xandarian. Loki was fairly sure the Xandarians had a typical humanoid metabolism. Assuming one nutria-bar was meant to be a complete meal then an Às would need to consume about two per meal to meet their minimum caloric intake.

Two bars per meal at three meals per day times seven months times 3,0058 mouths…

Loki ticked off the numbers in his head and rounded up, “about Thirty eight million five hundred thousand of these bars. Or the nutritional equivalent.”

“When do you depart?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

The Giant nodded, tapping a finger to its lips. Loki waited as it thought.

“I can obtain a third of that. I need only five hours.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, taking in the Jötnar’s humble abode and meager belongings. “How?”

Muthrun smirked, the first time Loki had seen anything approaching a smile on its face. He wasn’t sure he cared for it. “I have my ways.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Korg enthused. “Isn’t that fantastic, Miek?”

Miek squealed.

“And in return?” Loki knew what the Giant would demand, but asked anyways.

“Passage on your ship.”

Loki nodded, thinking. One third of their provisions for, essentially, free. It was invaluable. Two and a half months of life, of three thousand people living to see a new home, the continuation of the Às race.

It was possible, just possible, Loki could secure the necessary provisions on his own, though he was certain he’d need to resort to a bit of gambling to do so. And while Loki had great confidence in his skills of chance and cheat, such things were never guaranteed. He could still sometimes feel needles in his lips when the weather changed…

But Frost Giants on their ship? And their ship chartered for Midgard to boot? Even if, somehow, no one was murdered on the way, Thor would never allow a Jötunn to step foot on his precious Earth. Hell, Loki wouldn’t allow it! Asgard had chased the Giants off that planet once, they’d hardly invite them back in exchange for some lousy candy bars.

But, these Jötnar needn’t know that. Get the supplies on board, shut the doors, and leave the filthy beasts raging on the docks. Yes. It was perfect! And he wasn’t even gambling. Thor would be so proud. Ha!

“It is a deal,” Loki said. He let his glee bleed through to brighten his smile.

“A deal,” the Giant agreed, touching its chest and then its lips. Loki mimicked the gesture.

 

~~~

 

They had arranged to meet at the docks that evening. The Æsir had already been told to stay on the ship, to let the Sakaarans handle the loading and unloading of goods, but Loki returned early to make extra sure they stayed out of sight when the Jötnar came by. He’d rather not cause a scene until after all of the goods had been loaded and they were ready to depart.

By the time Loki had made his way back to the ship there was already a number of porters dropping off and picking up goods. Loki had to point out the ‘special’ items he had traded to the Sakaarans (“I know it’s trash, but don’t tell them that!”), and had to chase some overly helpful Æsir out of the cargo bay. (And he was not pleased that one of them had caught him in his Jötunn skin.)

He left instructions with the Sakaaran foreman to send word when the Jötnar arrived.

“And do not let them on this ship. Understood?”

The insectoid creature gurgled its assent and Loki left the loading bay, now in his Às skin and clothes, readying his report for Thor. His brother wasn’t hard to find. Eager as he was to learn the details of Loki’s excursion, Thor met him halfway to the conference room. Loki, puffing his chest, gave him the good news as they walked.

“I’ve secured enough fare to last us until Midgard and then some! Twenty three crates of various medical supplies, thirty seven crates of clothing in different sizes, a few pallets of spare parts, those maintenance tools Krilgik requested—including a brand new plasma drill—and even one hundred and fifty crates of bedding supplies!”

Thor was beaming. “And fuel?”

Loki pulled a small envelope from his pocket with a flourish and presented it to Thor.

“Ignoriant Supercharged Energy Cells?” Thor read.

“The very best this side of the galaxy.” Loki would sneak into the engine room later and see to their ‘installation.’

Thor laughed and drew Loki into a hug. Loki protested, squirming in his brother’s grip, though not with much conviction.

Back in the conference room, Loki detailed his haul more thoroughly for the gathered men and women. They would need to divvy up things such as bedding and clothing based on need. Many of the crew had only the one set of clothes and most were using packing material as bedding. Loki had also gotten some luxury goods, such as sweets and fresh fruit, and those things would be carefully rationed.

It had been nearly two hours when a Saakarn crew member burst into the room, panting.

“Loki, sir!”

“What is it?” Loki asked, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he took in the creature’s flustered appearance.

“I’m sorry,” the creature said, “but the Kronan let them in.”

Loki’s stomach dropped.

“Let who in?” Thor asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Loki assured him with a smile. “A couple unsavory merchants. I’ll deal with them.”

Thor sighed as Loki got up to leave. “What have you done?”

“I got your bloody supplies, is what I’ve done,” Loki snapped. “So shove off whilst I do my job.” And he swept out the door, the Sakaaran at his heels.

“Where are they?” Loki demanded.

The Sakaaran lead the way. They came upon Korg, Miek, and the two Jötnar in the lower halls. The Kronan was walking slowly, pointing things out as they went. Several Æsir watched from a distance, clearly in the process of moving supplies from the loading bay to elsewhere in the ship, but afraid to brave passing the two Giants to do so. The Giants, for their part, looked no less uncomfortable. The younger held its rucksack close to its chest, as if the dirty leather might offer some protection.

Muthrun, though; Loki was concerned about that one. It had to hunch to fit in the corridor, but it stood with its hands flexing by its sides. Its expression almost seemed blank, but Loki had seen such a look before. Eyes just a bit too wide, jaw clenching and nostrils flared. It was the look of a cornered beast waiting for the time to bolt… or strike.

“And here’s another broom closet. We’ve got a lot of those--”

“Korg!”

The Giants started at Loki’s yell and it took a moment for them to recognize him in his Às form. The younger one greeted him with a grin that was, frankly, far too excited considering the situation, but Muthrun’s expression turned to one of tampered horror as Loki drew near.

“Oh, hello, Lopti!” Korg waved at Loki’s approach.

“Korg,” Loki snarled, grabbing the Kronan’s arm. “May I speak with you a moment?”

“Certainly!” He said, and let Loki guide him away from the two Giants. “Be back in a jiffy,” he called over his shoulder.

Loki stopped at a junction further down, keeping the Jötnar in sight. Three Æsir stood to the side, staring at the intruders. Loki ordered them away before turning on the stone simpleton.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“Well, I’m showing them around the ship, then to their rooms. Figured they could stay with the big guy since they’re, you know, big too. You don’t think Mr. Hulk will mind, do you? Having roommates?”

“I think the beast would mind very much. More to the point, I mind!  I won’t have those things on my ship!”

“But, you invited them.”

“It was a trick, I lied.”

Korg and Miek gasped.

“Frost Giants are dangerous, treaturious beasts! They’d as soon kill you as greet you. Letting them our vessel is asking for a massacre.”

Korg frowned, looking torn. “I don’t know, Mr. Lopti. They seem like decent enough fellows to me.” He turned and waved to the Jötnar, who watched them intently. The younger one waved back.

Loki spat, “It’s been well established that you’re an idiot.”

Miek gave an incredulous meep and Korg crossed his arms, rocky skin scraping as he did so. “Now there’s no need to use names.”

Loki growled. “You will get those beasts off my--”

“Lacky!” Valkyrie’s voice cut through their hissed conversation as she strode past them. “Look at you, making friends.”

“Brunnhild!” He ducked around the Kronan to catch up with her.

“That’s my name!” She agreed, then addressed the Jötnar. “And how about you two?”

The younger Giant looked to its companion, but the elder didn’t seem inclined to speak, so it answered instead. “I am Juri. This is my dame, Muthrun.”

“Nice to meet you,” Valkyrie said, grinning. Juri returned her smile with a tentative one of its own but Muthrun continued with its wide eyed glare.

“Brunnhilde,” Loki said, grabbing her shoulder, “this is-- that is to say--”

“Don’t worry,” she said, pulling him into a one armed hug, though ‘hug’ wasn’t an aggressive enough description of the embrace. “I’m not gonna kill them.”

Muthrun hissed.

“Ah-hah!” loki laughed nervously, pulling himself out of her grip. “That’s… good. These two fine fellows helped us secure our food supplies for the trip. In fact, I was just about to go look it over with them.” If he could get them to the loading bay perhaps he could trick them outside.

But they didn’t move.

“It’s all there,” Muthrun spoke.

“Yes,” Juri said, “though our ways of obtaining it did not go unnoticed. It would be wise to depart soon.”

Oh. Oh! This was perfect. Loki could use their dishonesty as an excuse to have them removed from the ship.

“Are you saying you stole it?” Loki gasped, hand to his heart.

“We… redirected it,” Juri smirked.

Loki shook his head, eyes sad and shoulders slumped. “Oh dear, oh--” he choked on his words as Valkyrie slapped his back with a loud ‘HA!’

“I like them already! Hey, you!” She pointed at a deckhand, still watching from down near the bay doors. “Make sure everything’s inside! We leave in twenty! And you two, follow me. Let’s find you a place to bunk, ya?”

The younger Giant followed her eagerly, Korg falling into step, too. Muthrun was less enthusiastic. It leveled Loki a look as they turned the corner, a look that boded ill for Agard’s second prince.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ergons are an actual race in the Marvel comics, though my description of them here is... less than accurate. But I figure, if Marvel's allowed to play fast and loose with their own cannon then so am I!


	2. In which Loki's very reasonable arguments are ignored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter, but I figure a short chapter now is better than a long one later. So, enjoy!

His reception upon returning to the meeting room was considerably less favorable the second time around. Someone (bloody Heimdall) had passed word on about their new passengers and the Æsir members of the council were less than enthused. The Sakaaran representative didn’t seem to understand what all the hubbub was about.

Thor just looked tired.

“I hadn’t planned to let them board,” Loki said, arms crossed. He stood near the head of the table, too antsy to take a seat.

Thor scrubbed his hands down his face, careful to avoid his eyepatch this time. “You may have mentioned before it became an issue.”

“It wouldn’t have become an issue if that brain-dead Kronan hadn’t bumbled into the middle of it!”

The Kronan in question was not present, probably off having tea with the frost monsters.

“It wouldn’t have been an issue if you didn’t take such pride in your schemes! A word of warning, that is all I ask!”

“Bah!”

“And how do you plan to fix this, Prince Loki,” Kvathi asked. He was an old grump of a man, a minor noble who’d managed to survive Hela’s purge through sheer cowardice.

“Tell them an airlock’s the loo and flush them out,” Loki shrugged. “Or feed them to the green beast. Whatever, I don’t care.”

“I’m confused,” the Sakaaran, Lulu, spoke up, her yellow gills flaring with her words. “Are they… spies or something? Why are they so dangerous?”

“They are Frost Giants.” Kvathi gestured with conviction, frustrated with the Sakaaran’s ignorance. “They are innately evil creatures. Sooner or later they will turn on us. In fact, do we even know the supplies they traded us are safe?” This last he addressed to Loki.

“Yes, they’re fine,” Loki rolled his eyes. (He hadn’t thought of that. He’d check the supplies later.)

“They have given us no reason to harm them.” Thor’s words were muffled, face in his hands.

“Yet,” Loki said.

“They are Jötnar,” Kvathi said. “They’ll give us reason. Better to act before they do.”

“Hey, sad sacks!” Valkyrie announced her presence, somehow managing to open the sliding door with a bang. “What’cha all moaning about now?”

“So good of you to join us,” Loki sneered, arms crossed.

“Sorry, got caught up showing your friends around,” she said, throwing herself into a chair and slamming her heels on the table. “I partitioned off part of Hulk’s hull. He was pissy about it but I think him and the kid’ll get along. The mom, though, she’s real pissed at you.”

Loki choked. “That thing is a woman?”

Valkyrie stared at him for a beat, brows raised, before barking out a laugh.

“Are you for real?” she demanded. “Do I have to have the Jötunn sex talk with you?”

Loki’s cheeks burned and his tongue caught in his throat. He was uncomfortably aware of the many Æsir eyes boring into his skin. A couple of the older men snickered, their looks unkind. Marta, the matron in charge of the ship’s orphaned youths, shook her head, her lips pursed.

“Please don’t,” Thor said, finally emerging from behind his hands. “You say it is a mother and her child?”

“Yeah,” Valkyrie said, tearing her eyes— and her infuriating grin— from Loki to address Thor. “Muthrun and Juri. They’re looking for a new home because someone shot their old one with a space laser.”

The council’s muttering turned darker.

“And if someone,” Loki said, pointedly looking at Thor, “hadn’t destroyed the Bifrost then Jotunheim would be dust and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

The mutterings turned in his favor.

Valkyrie countered, “and what ‘mess’ is that, exactly? The ‘mess’ where we got three months worth of food for free?”

“The mess where we have two Frost Giants dirtying our halls!”

“Three.” Valkyrie wiggled three fingers in the air.

The mutterings grew hushed.

Loki had stopped breathing.

Thor sighed. “Brother…”

He didn’t respond, he didn’t say a word as he left.

 

~~~

 

Thor had decided to let them stay, announced that Asgard keeps its bargains— even to Jötnar.

Since when?

Since when had promises to Jötnar meant anything? When they’d commissioned Asgard’s walls? When they’d bargained weregild with Skaði?

When Odin had called Loki his son?

Loki slammed a fist through a crate, grabbed its tin sides, tearing it in two. His burnt palms ached from the abuse, fueling his rage further.

The little storage room, his training room, was emptier now. The few things of any worth it had held bargained away for Asgard’s survival. Bargained by Loki.

He a grabbed one half of the scrap metal and threw it against the far wall where it clattered into a heap, the dim overhead lights flickering from the impact.

“Wow, what crawled up your ass?”

Loki snatched up the twisted remains of the crate and slung it behind him, towards the door. Valkyrie batted it aside with her blade.

“I’m not in the mood, wench!”

“Oh, ho! Keep that up and I’ll scrub your mouth out with soap!”

“I’m not a child!”

“You’re acting like one.”

Loki shouted and kicked another crate. It tumbled across the floor with a cacophonous clang.

Of course she’d track him down, find him and taunt him. He shouldn’t have come here, their littling training room. But there were few places on the ship with anything even approaching privacy, and none of them big enough to let off steam.

“What are you so pissed about?” She didn’t sheath her sword, ready for more projectiles to come her way. “You invited them.”

“You’re as bad as that idiot Kronan!”

“Thank you,” she said, and her smile grew at Loki’s growl.

“I was going to take their fare and leave them on Vertex, never to be seen again.”

“That’s a pretty shit thing to do.”

“Their Jötnar! It doesn’t count!”

“Still shitty.”

“Odin would have done it,” Loki hissed. “He would have laughed at their ugly faces as we left them on the docks.” Bargains with Jötnar didn’t count.

“Your dad was a pretty shit guy,” Valkyrie said.

Loki bared his teeth. “How dare you? He was your king.”

“And he was a shit king.”

Loki shouted again, striding into her space, but Valkyrie didn’t flinch.

“He was,” she said, unimpressed as Loki snarled inches from her face. “He lied and cheated and didn’t give a shit who he hurt so long as he got his way. He’s the reason Hela went nuts, he’s the reason Surtr bound his soul to Asgard’s destruction, and he’s the reason we can’t get anyone to help us when we need it the most! The universe is filled with his enemies and now we’re paying for it! You want to be like your dad?” She sheathed her sword and stepped back, spreading her hands. “Keep it up.”

And with that, she left.

Loki drew fire to his hands and set the room ablaze.


	3. In which a little exploration is in order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> I'm not sure who first started the sire/dame thing. I may have first read it in aylithe's "Jötunheimr" works. Regardless, I did not come up with the convention.
> 
> The Jötnar use the pronouns zhe/zher. Grammatically, it works the same as she/her or he/him.
> 
> Oh, and I forgot to mention before! In case some of you were wondering, Jötnar is the plural of Jötunn. Likewise, Æsir is the plural of Ás, which are the old Norse words for the Asgardian gods. In this fic, I use "Ás" for the race originating in Asgard and "Asgardian" to refer to anyone who lives there. So, a Vanr (the race from Vanaheim) living/raised in Asgard would be an Asgardian but not an Ás.
> 
> And finally, thank you all so much for the comments you've left! I haven't responded to them because I get all flustered and embarrassed. I'm going to try to get better at that. But know that I read them all and it makes me very happy!

_“The King vouches for them.”_

_“And The Prince disagrees!”_

_“I trust Thor’s Judgment over his brother’s.”_

_“Why are they even here? Why were they ever let on the ship in the first place?”_

_“Struck some kind of bargain. Traded a few supplies for passage.”_

_“Passage to Midgard? Has the King gone mad? The last thing we need is a group of Giants tearing up the countryside. We’ll have enough problems to deal with as is!”_

_“King Thor is young, but he isn’t unintelligent. He surely has a plan to deal with the beasts. We need only trust in him.”_

_“Perhaps.”_

 

~~~

 

Thor was being unreasonable.

Loki had spent several hours dogging his brother's footsteps through the ship, explaining in very thorough detail why keeping the Jötnar on board was a poor choice. He’d even arranged for Thor to speak with half a dozen veterans, worried mothers, and one very timid child about their fears and concerns regarding the two blue ‘guests’ in the hold. Thor brushed all of this aside with an ‘Asgard keeps its promises’ and a patronizing pat on the shoulder.

“Jötnar can’t be trusted, Thor.”

“I trust _you.”_

“No you don’t!”

And he rightly shouldn’t. Loki had felt an overwhelming desire to stab his brother all day.

Loki was exhausted. His less than successful work with the ship’s power cells didn’t serve to improve his mood, either. Using the Tesseract to recharge the spent cells was, it seemed, far more difficult than he’d anticipated. He’d spent nearly four hours in the engine room incinerating one cell after another after another as the Cube’s unruly power ate away at the batteries and his seiðr until he’d finally called it a night.

The door to his quarters slid closed with a dry grind, the chartreuse fey lights he’d set along the ceiling flittering on as he passed beneath them. It had taken six weeks of spellcraft to expand the room into something halfway comfortable, folding space into the higher dimensions, tricking reality into giving him just a few more feet. The room was still cramped, and it still had all the charm of a dusty storage closet. But it was private. And it was just large enough to _let go._

He’d been putting it off. Ever since the Giants had boarded he’d had an illogical fear of someone walking in on him or of getting himself stuck or some other improbability. But it had been eight days and the strain was wearing on him. He knew he’d lose control come the ninth.

Loki sighed and with his next breath his form shifted, growing taller, growing colder. The chill of his quarters was now a pleasant warmth and the subtle fey light now had the soft glow afternoon sun through a spring canopy. Even the hard metals of the walls and floor didn’t feel so uninviting to this thicker skin.

It was still cramped, though.

Loki settled onto the mattress he’d dragged to the floor some weeks back. The bed, inset into the cabin walls, had been too small even when he’d been Ás. Even with dimensional stretching it would never accommodate his Jötunn height. Instead, he’d converted it into a shelf, occasionally using it as a desk for paperwork and the like.

His skin didn’t look quite so muddy under the fey lights.

Loki sighed again, stripping out of his leathers, the loose cotton of his underclothes a relief in the warmth of his rooms. He hated doing this, needing to do this. If he’d left well enough alone, hadn’t tampered with Odin’s little spell-pin, then he’d have been able to retain his Às skin indefinitely. But curiosity had gotten the better of him and he still hadn’t recovered from the years of enforced shapeshifting. Maintaining his Às form was _draining._ It itched and pulled and he just…

He closed his eyes and lay down, arms at his sides, rough palms held away from the ridged skin of his body.

His magic needed the rest. He could deal with it until morning.

 

~~~

 

Æsir.

With all the stories Juri had heard of the Æsir zhe expected demons. Snarling fangs, and burning hands. But these, they could almost be mistaken for children. They even wore their hair long! Oma said every Às was trained for battle, but that was hard to believe when they wore braids and buns like craftsmen and farmers.

And they were so little! Juri wasn’t fully grown, but even still zhe towered over even the tallest Às!

Juri knew it would be a terrible idea, but zhe desperately wanted to pat one on the head.

 _“We are to stay here,”_ Zher dame had said, dragging zher from the bay doors and the sight of Æsir toiling amongst the cargo. Oma was desperately afraid. Zhe remembered the Midgard Wars, remembered Asgard’s burning blades and swarming hordes. “We stay in these rooms, away from the Æsir. Do not speak to them, do not look on them, and give them no reason to look on you. We stay quiet and maybe we survive.”

But surely, surely, they weren’t all bad. The one with the face markings, Brunnhilde, she’d been friendly. She’d sparred with words and was generous with smiles as she’d settled them into their new accommodations. She’d even spoken of Jötnar from the past, ones she’d called friends. If she could be kind, why couldn’t others?

_“An Às’s word is like candle ice, pretty and worthless.”_

Oma planned to sneak off board the next time they made port. Oma figured if they left before they reached Midgard the Æsir wouldn’t be bothered to track them down. Zhe was convinced the Æsir would have their heads before they let any Jötnar step foot on the Mortal Realm.

But where would they go? Oma didn’t know.

_“Somewhere else. Someplace else.”_

Oma was scared. Zher thoughts were still caught in the war. But the war was centuries ago! Things had changed. They must have.

The Æsir had lost their home, too.

Brunnhilde said that Loki (for that was Loptr’s true name) was indeed Jötunn, claimed by Odin King as son and Prince of Asgard. Oma didn’t believe it, thought it another dirty Às lie, but Juri believed. Loki spoke like an Às, and zhe had been dressed like Juri’s Omama, but zhe’d moved like a Jötunn, smiled like one.

And zhe was a shifter! Not just a shifter, but a seiðrmaster! Brunnhilde had told them this, too, told them Loki was a sorcerer capable of conjuring images and hidden blades, that he was versed in all of Asgard’s magics, trained as a battlemage prince.

And if the Æsir could accept a Jötunn as their prince, surely things _had_ changed!

Oma insisted they be cautious. Well, Juri could be cautious.

Zhe waited until Zher dame slept. It took some days, as Oma was too unnerved to sleep deeply and would wake at the slightest sound (and Hulk was not a quiet neighbor). But Juri waited, knowing even Zher dame couldn’t remain awake forever.

On the eighth night, as the lights throughout the ship dimmed, Juri realized zher dame had fallen into a doze in the corner of their room. (Their room was truly a corner of the main cargo bay, carved from Hulk’s quarters with walls of crates and hanging plastic sheets. It was cramped, but more private than the room they shared with the Orcanoids on Vertex.)

“Oma?” Juri called quietly. Zhe crawled up to zher dame’s side to tap gently on the ridges of Oma’s face, just below zher eyes. “Oma, are you awake?”

Zher dame did not stir, and Juri could hear light snoring beneath the constant thrum of the ship’s engines.

A smile found its way across zher face as zhe slipped between the hanging sheets and into the bay beyond. Broken containers, twisted iron rods, and torn packing material littered Hulk’s abode. Juri stepped cautiously through the mess, peering over the mounds of trash. Hulk lounged in a nest of found things, clutching a barrel like a stitched toy. He slept.

Hulk was a curious man. Exceedingly strong but not terribly bright. Juri had thought him a Hill Giant, at first, but Oma had huffed a negative.

_“Hill Giants are not green themselves. They only look so from the moss in their craggy skin.”_

Juri had convinced Hulk to play a few card games with Zher, but the childish being threw a tantrum whenever he lost. And he usually lost.

Juri made zher way to the main entrance of the bay which lead to the loading bay. This held a great deal of supplies the Æsir hadn’t yet found use for. Juri pressed close to the door jam, listening into the echoing hold. No voices, no sounds of little Æsir steps.

Good. There was one small thing zhe needed before adventuring on: a change of clothes.

Oma said there were ways of changing one’s garb with one’s form, but Oma had never managed it zherself. Oma’s Oma had, apparently. But Omama had fallen before Juri was old enough to learn. Juri could remember, though, Omama shifting forms in the light of the campfire, growing fur and claws for the hunt.

That was before the hreindyr had all died off.

Juri crept between crates and palettes until zhe found the bound bundles of cloth. Zhe was careful opening them, careful not to tear the packaging. Zhe didn’t want the theft to be noticed.

“Let’s see, let’s see…”

A gown would be easiest. Flowy and loose, zhe wouldn’t have to worry about an exact fit. Juri selected one with a nice silver trim and blue cloth, like a clear morning sky, and held it up to zher chest.

It was so tiny!

Now to shift. Gowns were for females, were they not? Brunnhilde had worn britches, but she’d possessed a bossem as a nursing dame would, so Juri felt confident the Ás was indeed a woman.

Juri closed zher eyes, clutching the pretty cloth and thinking on Brunnhilde, her flowing hair, her curving hips, her bright eyes. Juri felt zher bones begin to shift and shrink, zher skin to soften and the ridges of zher brow to smooth. It was curious, and uncertain, but as zhe focused, zher magic reached out, seeking out the lifeforms nearby, learning the essence of an Ás. And as zher magic came to know the form, the changes came faster, with confidence, and Juri all but fell into this new skin.

She opened her eyes.

The bay was dark. Much darker than before, her new eyes designed for the bright vistas of Asgard instead of the dim of Jötunheim. Juri giggled, then giggled some more at the sound of her voice. It was so light! Like the tinkling of ice falling in the woods. She held out an arm and marveled at the light tan tones and smooth skin, her laylines hidden beneath the flesh.

Oh! Oma would be so mad!

Juri quickly dressed (for a loose definition of quick. The new clothes were confusing) and stashed her old kilt beneath some pallets. The dress was loose in the chest, but otherwise seemed fine. It flowed in lovely waves as she skipped across the hull and to the hallways beyond. Somewhere in these twisting corridors there was an elevator.

Ah! There! Next to the sixth storage closet Korg had pointed out. She dashed up to its control panel and slapped her hand against the digital display. The elevator gave a loud ‘ker-chunk,’ then a grinding hum as the mechanism ground to life. Juri hopped from foot to foot as she waited for the doors to chime open.

Oh, it was freezing! And it was so strange being unable to draw warmth to herself. Her toes felt as if they would fall off.

Scrambling into the lift, she pressed a button at random. The doors closed, the elevator jerked, and the pit of her stomach swooped with the movement of the platform. Lights fell by as she rose, illuminating the elevator through the crack in the door, until a tinny ding announced the end. The doors slid open with a squeak and she stepped out into the bright halls of the upper deck.

Voices. Æsir voices! Down the way and to her right. She stepped lightly, nerves flickering in her belly.

Would they realize she didn’t belong? What if she’d botched her transformation?

Juri looked again at her hands. They seemed right to her. A panel in the wall had a bit of shine to it, and Juri bent to gaze at her reflection. It was distorted by the metal, but she looked roughly right. A little scrawnier than Brunnhilde, and her braided hair had more red to it than the Æsir woman. But that was all right, wasn’t it? Oma had said Æsir came in an assortment of tans and browns.

“I still wish we could have gone aboard.” The voices rounded the corner, two Æsir strolling down the way. They were male. (She thought they were male.) One fair skinned and fair haired, the other with fiery hair and speckles across his nose.

Juri straightened, clasping her hands before her.

Was this all right? Was there some way she was supposed to great them? Oh! They were taller than her, how strange!

“You all right?” the red one asked, slowing as they came near.

“Yes! Yes. Um. Yes, I am fine.” She laughed, the nervous feeling in her chest bubbling to the surface.

They stared at her, brows pinched.

Had she done something wrong already?

“Are you sure? You don’t have any shoes.”

Shoes? Was that problem? Was it rude to go without?

“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly. “I lost them.”

The two Æsir glanced at one another, worry clear on their faces. So strange. They had no reservation, letting their emotions dance across their features even in the presence of a stranger.

The fair one spoke next, asking, “do you have family on board? Are you lost?”

Technically, yes, her dame slept in the holds below, but Juri wasn’t about to say so. But that the Æsir men would ask meant there were those aboard who did not have family. Claiming she was an orphan would be an easier lie than claiming her family were somewhere about the ship.

“I am on my own,” Juri said, gazing at her feet. If she looked sad enough, maybe the Æsir wouldn’t ask too many questions. It felt wrong to display emotions so dramatically, but it seemed to be normal for the Æsir. “And I am a bit turned around.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” the red one said, placing a hand between her shoulders and steering her to walk between them. “Have you had dinner? We’re on the way to the dinning hall.”

She hadn’t, and said as much. The men lead her to a large hall with tall ceilings, flooded with soft golden light. It wasn’t crowded, but then, it was a bit late in the evening. But even half empty the voices of those gathered rang out over empty bowls and half filled cups. The men showed her to the front of the room where a couple older women dished her a bowl of soup. It was hot, uncomfortably so, and she had to hold the bowl by its lip with the tips of her fingers. It smelled strange and, Juri was sure, would have been unappetizing where she still Jötunn. But now, the strange vegitables smelled absolutely delectable.

Her guides left her, then, finding their own companions in the crowd. Juri was left standing at the edge, soup held before her, as she studied the gathered people.

They shouted and jostled each other, slapping backs and spilling drink. They laughed with even as they punched each other in the arms and grabbed a headlock.

They didn’t seem so small and cute now.

Perhaps she should have been a male. The men seemed to be bigger, both in size and width. But then, she was a youth still. She’d have likely been smaller than most regardless. And the room was so loud! There were only, maybe, a hundred or so, but their chatter filled the place as if they were a thousand. Laughing, singing, talking one over the other until their words were shouts.

“And I took a great leap, landing on the beast’s back, driving my spear through its lungs!” A man on Juri’s left shouted, miming the action with an empty cup. “It bucked and howled but I kept my grip until it fell, face first, into the bloody dirt!”

“Yeah, and my Aunt’s a horse,” another man drawled.

“No, it is true!” The first insisted. “Look! I’ve still got the frost scars from where it grabbed me.” The man pulled back his sleeve, exposing skin discolored from an old wound.

Juri edged away.

She passed another group recounting a war on Vanaheim. Something recent that involved various ‘rebals and bandits.’ Yet another group was discussing the best blades for skinning boars. Another sung a song about the slaying of the Giant Þjazi.

The hall was feeling rather too warm, now.

She should go back. She should leave. Her dame was right, the Æsir were a bloodthirsty lot and if they found her out...

Juri picked her way along the edge of the crowd, doing her best not to meet their eyes. Mostly they ignored her, talking and laughing with each other where they sat on mats or improvised stools. Juri had to jump out of the way of one man who gestured wildly as she passed, regaling his friends with some great tale.

So open and loud.

“Hey! Where’re your shoes?!”

Juri spun, soup sloshing over her hands. The boy who’d hailed her laughed as she cursed quietly.

Juri flicked the broth from her fingers as she answered. “I lost them.”

“How’d you lose your shoes?” the boy asked, his smile clearly at her expense. He was small, perhaps half the size of an adult, and his hair was yellow and messy.

“If I knew how I lost them I’d be able to find them.”

“Don’t be rude, Gullr,” an older girl said, her straight dark hair falling past her shoulders.

“I was just asking, Fjulla,” the boy, Gullr, said.

There were a number of children and youths arranged in several loose circles at the edge of the hall. Fjulla and Gullr played with roughly carved little figures on a perforated board, the pieces standing proudly in their little holes.

The two youths were staring at her. She had to say something.

“What are you playing?”

Fjulla answered, “Tafl. Do you want to join?”

“I’m taking winner,” another boy said. His voice was deep, like an adult’s, but his limbs were a lanky youth’s. “You can go after.”

She glanced at the door, still some fifty feet away, then to the children. Gullr smiled a gap toothed grin.

“All right…”

Tafl, she learned, was a game of strategy. Being unfamiliar, Juri lost most of her matches. But Fjulla and her brother, Ragnar, were patient and assured Juri she only needed more practice. It was frustrating, but Juri didn’t want to give up. It had been years since she’d played with anyone around her own age. Gullr was certainly younger, but the two siblings seemed to be her age.

The children were even louder than the adults, and the youngest of them ran throughout the hall, knocking over mugs or leaping over outstretched legs.

“I like your hair!” Gullr announced during one of Fjulla and Ragnar’s matches. He tugged one of her braids. “Can you do mine like that?”

“Yours is a bit short,” she laughed, ruffling his hair. It was very thin and light.

“It’s not _that_ short! Can’t you do a small one?”

“I don’t know. Do you think you can sit still for it?”

He could. Mostly.

“Where are you from?” Fjulla asked, hopping her black game piece across the board.

“Oh, um, I grew up in the woods,” Juri said, starting on another tiny braid.

_(Asgard had woods, right? Yes, of course.)_

“Whereabouts?”

“Nowhere special. What about you?”

“Farm,” Ragnar said, placing one of his pieces to sandwich his sister’s between two of his own. Fjulla scowled as he snatched hers from the board.

“We were in Asgard for school,” Fjulla said. “We’re from Vanaheim, originally. But our mother wanted us to have an Asgardian education.”

“Is she here, too?”

Fjulla and her brother’s faces went blank.

“We don't got nobody here,” Gullr said. “That’s why Matron Marta’s taking care of us.”

“Oh,” Juri stuttered. “Sorry.”

“Your family made it on board, then?” Ragnar asked, not looking up from his game. It wasn’t his turn.

“Um, yes. My dame-- um, my mother. _She_ is sleeping right now.”

Ragnar nodded. “You’re lucky.”

“Yeah…” She tied off Gullr’s braid and started another. She sought for something to fill the sudden silence. “What was your school like?”

“Oh!” Fjulla said, her face brightening. “It was wonderful! It had the biggest library I’d ever seen!”

The girl went on about her studies, much to Ragnar and Gullr’s annoyance, but Juri enjoyed hearing it. She’d never been in a room designed just for classes. It seemed an odd concept, staying inside and reading about things instead of going out and doing them. But then, Juri had only seen a handful of books throughout her life. Most of Jotunheim’s libraries were guarded, the scrolls too valuable to risk.

She wondered if Midgard had libraries. Fjulla hoped so.

It wasn’t long, though, before the children were called to bed. Gullr complained loudly as an older matron rounded them all up, insisting they bring their dishes to the front before filing out of the hall.

Fjulla held back as Juri placed her bowl with the other used eating ware.

“Do you want to play again tomorrow?” She asked.

Juri blinked, surprised. She hadn’t thought about coming back. She’d been ready to flee the hall not too long ago, to hide again in the bay. The older Æsir were still loud, still singing songs of battle. But Fjulla looked so hopeful, and it had been so long since she'd had anyone to talk to besides her dame. Her dame, who would be in a rage if zhe ever found out.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to come tomorrow.” Juri would only be able to leave the lower floors if Oma remained unaware. She’d have to hope her dame would soon sleep deeply again. “But if I can, I will.”

“Okay,” Fjulla smiled, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re usually by the west wall. You’ll see us.”

Juri returned the girl’s smile as the group left. With a skip in her step, she made for the lower holds.

This had been an excellent idea!


	4. In which a story is told and a lesson imparted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post anything last week. Caught the flu. Then my tooth died. Did you know that can happen? It can. And it's very painful. But! The dentist hollowed it out and filled it with, I don't know, chewing gum? It doesn't hurt anymore, which is the important part.
> 
> Also, you remember how I said everyone's a bit of a douche in this fic? Yeah...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_“It’s been almost three weeks and the King hasn’t done anything about those things in the hold.”_

_“We should be patient. Thor has proven himself a strategic man. He would not sit idle whilst danger stalks our halls.”_

_“And yet he does!”_

_“Patience--”_

_“What is his plan, then? Hmm? It seems to me he is making a hobby collecting oversized beasts.”_

_“He… I am sure he has reason.”_

_“The Prince seems less sure. I’ve heard him speaking with some of the veterans of Midgard. He was quite adamant the creatures must go.”_

_“I would trust Thor over his brother any day.”_

_“I would too, on most days. But these are not ‘most days.’”_

 

~~~

 

It wasn’t working!

Loki dropped the Tesseract with a frustrated shout, letting it fall back into his intra-dimensional pocket. He had tried to weave the cube’s energy into the power cells, delicately and with precision, but it was like trying to water a violet with a tsunami. Each time he lost his grip on the raging energy, frying the cell.

The chemical stench of the burnt husks ate at the back of his throat.

He’d tried lowering the cube’s output, moderating its frequency, or using a conductive medium between it and the batteries, but nothing worked.

They had a week’s worth of fuel left. No one but Loki knew.

He raked his hands through his hair, hissing when the strands caught in the healing skin of his palms.

Blast it all!

It was an energy source! Even the mortals had used it as such, creating weapons and vehicles. Bloody mortals! And here Loki was—  a blasted god!— unable to recharge one damn battery!

Loki aimed a kick at one of the molten fusion cells but thought better of it, sliding to the floor instead. The engine room was uncomfortably hot, even as an Às, the great machines pumping and steaming as they sent power throughout the ship. Few came down here, and only for as long as necessary to change the cells or check things were running as they should. Loki wasn’t entirely sure the machines were supposed to be steaming, but the Sakaaran engineers hadn’t mentioned it yet.

He let his head thunk against the wall, sheet metal thrumming low with the impact, his eyes drawn to the cell. It smoldered on his improvised ritual mat, sparks of of power burying themselves into the burlap. He’d have to dispel the built up energy in the mat soon.

Loki’s head ached.

He needed something to regulate the Tesseract’s output. He couldn’t control the artifact and focus on the fission process of the cells at the same time. The thing ate away at him, pulling at his flesh and seiðr with every second he held it until he lost concentration and the bloody thing ripped its way into the battery and burned it from the inside out. Explosively.

If Loki couldn’t find a solution, and soon, Thor would have his head. And wouldn’t that be ironic? His brother bending over backwards to protect two Jötnar only to bring the hammer of vengeance down on Loki himself.

Oh, how did he always get himself into these absurd situations? Why couldn’t his plans turn out well, just for once? Why did they always fall apart around his ears, sending the roof down atop him?

He needed help. He needed someone versed in seiðr to help him wrangle the Tesseract. More specifically, he needed someone versed in seiðr who wouldn’t immediately run off to Thor to tell him of Loki’s misdeeds. Everyone in Asgard knew of his attempt to conquer Midgard with The Tesseract, and no one would trust him to keep it safe. Thor would rip it away and put it somewhere to be guarded day and night by a retinue of musclebound guards. Probably in a closet or something where it would sit and glow and send its energies out in a wave for anyone who might be listening.

For a very specific someone who was listening.

Loki was the only one who could keep it hidden, hidden from Heimdall, hidden from… others.

He wished his mother were here, she would be able to aid him in this. She’d even keep quiet about his methods, if he asked. Or even Odin! If Odin where here _he_ could keep it hidden. And if he couldn’t, at least then Loki would have someone to blame if everything went to shit!

But he didn’t have Odin. Or mother.

No, Loki was on his own. As always.

Oh, he was so screwed.

 

~~~

 

Zher dame was sleeping. Juri had brewed the both of them some red lichen tea, a special treat they indulged in now and then. Their pouch of the moss was growing light, but Juri had convinced zher dame that they deserved a bit of relaxation after three weeks of constant stress.

And now zher dame was sleeping.

Juri crept to the loosened panel at the edge of their quarters, prying it from the wall with slow and deliberate movements, careful to keep it from clattering to the floor. Wedged in the ductwork beyond was a wrapped package, the blue dress Juri wore to mingle with the Æsir. Zhe had only managed to sneak off a couple times, as Oma still slept fitfully and infrequently. But in those rare instances when Oma did sleep, and sleep deeply, Juri slipped away to the floors above.

Zhe closed zher eyes and focused on the small bones and thin skin of zher Às form, sliding into it with more ease than ever. It was becoming almost second nature, like a well practiced dance. Juri shimmied out of her Jötunn kilts and into her Às dress, hiding the old clothes in the ducks. With one last glance at her snoring dame, she ducked under their room’s hangings and into the bay beyond. Hulk was somewhere passed the crates and barrels. She kept an ear cocked for his heavy movements as she tiptoed to the doors. Shuffling and grumbling echoed from the far end of the bay, but no sight of green skin or mussy hair.

With a grin, Juri reached the bay’s doors, then—

“Hey there, Kiddo. What’re you doing down here?”

Juri tripped and nearly landed face first into Brunnhilde's chest, but the Às woman caught her by the shoulders and returned her to her feet.

“Hey, where are your shoes?” Brunnhilde asked.

“I-- I don’t--”

“Wait…” The woman looked Juri over, from foot to face. She took Juri by the jaw, turning her head this way and that in an uncompromising grip, then laughed. “Hey! Wow, is that you? Juri?”

She nodded against Brunnhild’s grip, shoulders slumping.

“Haha! You’re a shapeshifter?” Brunnhilde let go of Juri’s face to take a step back and look over the change.

“I-- Yes. Yes, I just wanted to see what it was like,” she stuttered, holding her arms close about her middle, as if doing so could hide the transformation. "Um, my dame is sleeping. We should be quiet..."

Brunnhilde was smirking at her, her eyes raking across Juri’s new form. Seeing Brunnhilde like this, through Às eyes, it was quite apparent Juri’s form was lackluster in comparison. She was shorter than the Às, and her skin wasn’t nearly as lovely a brown. Maybe with practice she could edge a little closer to Brunnhilde's look, but she’d never get it quite like that.

Brunnhilde nodded, adjusting a satchel she had slung over one shoulder, the sound of bottles clinking within. “So, you just going for a walk around the cargo bays?” The way she said it made it clear Brunnhilde knew that wasn’t the case.

“Well, no.” Brunnhilde was suspicious. Juri would have to think of something, something bad enough to warrant sneaking off but not so bad as sneaking to the upper levels.

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow, waiting. Juri’s gaze was drawn to the Às’ satchel. Brunnhilde often came down to drink with Hulk, the two of them singing loud and tuneless songs long into the night.

“I found a bottle of Setchen Whiskey in one of the broom closets,” Juri blurted, the lie spilling out. “I wanted to know what it would be like, drinking it in this form. You won’t tell my dame, will you?” Juri whispered, darting a glance towards the sheets hiding her sleeping oma. “Zhe doesn’t like me taking this form. But the bottle’s too small to do anything when I’m Jotun.”

“Uh-huh,” Brunnhilde snorted, shaking her head with a grin. “Well, far be it from me to ruin your fun. And, hey, when you’re done, feel free to join me and Hulk. He likes you.”

“Oh! Oh, thank you. Um...”

“Just an open invite,” she reassured, waving Juri’s hesitation away. She turned towards the sounds of Hulk’s shuffling. “Have fun! Don’t get sick!”

“Right. Thanks. And you too,” Juri nodded to Brunnhilde's retreating back before darting away.

She couldn’t believe that worked! Juri wouldn't stay away long, she didn’t want to arouse Brunnhilde's suspicion, but she’d have enough time for at least a couple games of taffle up above.

 

~~~

 

Dinner was just winding down as she arrived. Rations were the nutra-bars Juri and her dame had provided, along with a small helping of dried fruit. The fruit was odd, almost too sweet, but after a few bites she found herself growing used to the flavor. They didn’t have anything so overwhelmingly sweet on Jötunheim.

Juri found Fjulla with the other youths, braiding strips of cloth into a dainty belt. Weaving was a common hobby amongst the female population of Asgard, and Fjulla had been teaching Juri some new designs. Juri, in turn, had shown her how to braid a tassel in the way her omama (or grandmother, as the Æsir would say) had done. Juri didn’t mention that the style was unique to the Fjarðardalur clan, only that it was a family method.

Juri slid down to sit beside Fjulla, waiting for the other girl to notice. Absorbed as she was with her braiding, she remained entirely unaware of Juri’s presence. Juri made a game of it, inching closer to Fjulla, slowly, until she sat with her nose nearly touching the other girl’s ear. It was only when her breath started to tickle Fjulla’s neck that she finally looked up with a start.

“Juri!”

They both laughed and Juri scooted back to a more polite distance.

“How is your braiding?” Juri asked.

“It’s good, I think. Would you take a look?”

Juri took the tail of the braid in her hand, admiring the way the rough materials danced to Fjulla’s will.

“You incorporated my grandmother’s tassels with your mother’s knotwork!”

“Yes! You don’t mind, do you?”

“No! Of course not! I think it’s wonderful.” And she did. The geometric Às designs flowed gracefully into her clan’s looser threadwork. Juri wondered if her Omama would feel the same.

"My bar looks funny," Gullr, the little blond boy who could never sit still, dropped his nutri-bar with a scowl.

"Just eat it." Ragnar spoke up from where he sat against the wall. He didn’t bother to look up from his book.

“No. Oh!” Gullr jumped to his feet as he caught sight of someone across the hall. “Oh! Oh! It’s Prince Loki! Look!” He pointed.

Indeed, the prince was making his way to the serving station, head held high and gaze straight ahead. It was strange seeing him as an Às. While he wasn’t large by Às standards, he certainly wasn’t short. It was quite different from his natural shape, stunted as it was. Juri wondered if he needed to force himself to gain those extra inches in this shape or if it was simply the form his magic fell into.

“Do you think he’ll tell us a story?” Gullr didn’t ask anyone in particular, still watching the prince cross the hall.

“He looks angry,” Juri said. And he did. His brows tight and his jaw tense.

“No he doesn’t!” Gullr said.

“You shouldn’t bother the prince,” Ragnar said. “He’s probably busy.”

“It’s not bothering him. He likes telling stories.”

“Ask Matron Marta. She’ll tell you to leave him alone.”

Gullr puffed out his cheeks but did just that, bounding over the other children to the severe looking Matron, the one in charge of all the ship’s orphans. Most of the children in this corner of the hall were without family. The children who still had theirs seemed to avoid those who didn’t. Juri had asked once why. Ragnar thought they were afraid of them, as if dead parents was something you could catch. Fjulla was kinder, thinking they may just not know what to say.

Gullr returned from the Matron with a deep frown, flopping to the floor with his arms crossed.

“What’d she say?” Ragnar drawled, turning another page.

“To wait ‘till he’s done eating.”

“How dreadful.”

“Does he often tell you stories?” Juri asked.

“Sometimes,” Fjulla said, picking at a loose thread in her braiding. “I guess he used to perform epics at feasts in the palace. We never got to go to those, though.”

“He tells the best stories!” Gullr announced, his pouting forgotten. “He uses magic to make it come to life! Like this!” Gullr jumped back to his feet, miming some great battle. His whooshing sound effects were accompanied with a fine spray of spittle.

“Really?” Juri asked absently, wiping spray from her forehead. Her dame used to make ice sculptures when telling Juri bedtime stories, little worgs and Jötunn warriors, but they never moved. Once, as the winter gave way to the light snows of spring, a caravan came through in time for the Equinox Festival. One of the performers had used the flames of the great bonfire to create fleeting pictures of dancers and monsters and long dead heroes. Juri had tried to do the same that night and had burnt her fingers quite thoroughly.

Gullr was in the throws of an epic fight for his life against an invisible beast, but Fjulla picked up where he left off.

“The Prince is a very skilled seiðrmaster. Probably the best in Asgard. When he weaves illusions you can hardly tell they’re not real, they’re so vivid and lifelike.”

Ragnar made kissy sounds from behind his book.

Fjulla turned to slap her brother’s leg. “They are!”

“Tell Juri about his voice. How _sonorous_ it is.”

“Shut up!” Fjulla slapped him more vigorously, her cheeks red. Ragnar fended her off with a foot, smacking his lips in a sloppy imitation of kissing.

Juri laughed, watching the two siblings wrestle. It ended with Fjulla on top of her brother, whacking his covered head as he chuckled into his arms. When she slid off of him, with one last smack, Juri asked, “So you like him? You don’t mind that he’s Jötunn?”

Juri hadn’t spent much time amoung the Æsir, but even still had heard a few less than kind things said about her people. And about her, specifically. She’d overheard at least one man who wanted to 'throw the two Jötunn stowaways out an airlock.’

Fjulla paused, glancing at Juri from lowered eyes, then turned to fixing her mussed hair. Ragnar’s expression, too, had changed, looking uncomfortable.

“Well,” Fjulla said, “he’s not really Jötunn.”

“What do you mean?” Juri asked. Was her dame right, that his blue skin had been a trick?

“Well, I mean, he was born a Jötunn, but that doesn’t matter. He’s Às where it counts.” Fjulla was playing with her hands, her cheeks growing redder.

“Where it counts?”

“Yeah, you know. In heart and mind. He’s smart and brave and he saved us when Asgard…” Fjulla’s words grew tight. She took a breath and finished, “he saved us. He’s Às in his heart.”

“So,” Juri said, chest tight. “He’s not Jötunn because he’s smart and brave.”

“Look,” said Ragnar, his voice steady and low. “Loki is still our prince, Jötunn or not. If you have a problem with that, I think you should keep it to yourself.”

“That’s-- That’s not--” Juri’s voice snagged in her throat. She hadn’t known Fjulla and Ragnar long, but in that time they’d been kind and funny and friendly. That they thought so little of her people… Juri knew tensions between the Jötnar and Æsir were high, but it still hurt. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, you can be Jötunn and be smart and brave. Æsir don’t have a monopoly on good traits, you know.”

“Well, yes. Of course some are,” Fjulla said, gesturing to where Loki was taking his meal.

“Most are!”

The siblings didn’t know how to respond to that, staring at Juri in confusion.

“I just…” She shouldn’t have lost her temper, she couldn’t give herself away. What could she say to get her point across without revealing her ruse? “My Om—my mother, she traveled a lot when I was young. We met some Jötnar, here and there, and they aren’t stupid or cowards. They’re people, just like you. They’re… I don’t know. I just don’t like how Æsir are always making them out like they’re animals.”

Fjulla was quiet for a time. “Sorry.” Then, “have you really met a Frost Giant?”

“No she hasn’t,” Ragnar said, slouching against the wall.

“I have,” Juri said, voice hard.

“What are they like?” Fjulla asked.

“They’re… Uh, well, big.”

Ragnar snorted. Juri glared at the boy. She continued with more conviction.

“Their warriors shave their heads and bind their horns to grow low against their skulls so there’s nothing to grab in a fight. And their food is purer. You never put meat in with vegetables or mix two sorts of meat. Doing so is unclean.”

“How is it unclean?” Ragnar asked. He still looked unconvinced, but was listening.

“Well, because meat goes bad much faster than vegetables, doesn’t it? And fish goes bad faster than meat. If you mix them then one half of the dish might go bad before you finish.”

“Well, you shouldn’t leave food lying around to go bad.”

“They don’t leave it ‘lying around!’ They just store it separately.”

“Are they scary?” Fjulla asked.

“No. I mean…” Juri gave the question a bit of thought. She supposed a Jötunn would be scary to someone half their height. “A bit intimidating. But it’s not that bad.”

“Guys!” Gullr bounded into their circle, scattering Fjulla’s pile of cloth scraps. “He said yes! But Marta says we gotta get ready for bed first! Come on, come on!”

He hopped over to the next group of children with his announcement, pulling the smaller kids to their feet as he went.

“Are you going to come too?” Fjulla asked as she gathered up her project. She grinned as she added, “maybe Prince Loki will tell a Frost Giant story.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I don’t want my mother to worry…”

“You don’t have to stay for the whole thing.”

Juri chewed her lip. She really couldn’t stay long. There was no telling when her dame would wake. And she felt a bit weird right now, even if Fjulla had apologized. _(She hadn’t really understood why she was apologizing, Juri knew.)_ But she was curious. Curious how Prince Loki managed to win the hearts of the Æsir, and curious about his seiðr. It sounded like his methods were quite different from anything she’d seen on Jötunheim. Maybe she could learn a thing or two.

“All right. For a bit.”

Fjulla smiled.

 

~~~

 

Loki was tired and frustrated and hungry. The evening’s rations were meant for someone who’d been lounging about the ship all day, not a seiðrmastr who’d spent the last three hours wrestling with an unruly artifact of unlimited power. He wanted to go to bed.

Or punch something.

The little boy had been so earnest, though. And it had been a while since Loki had paid the children’s hall a visit. It could be nice to spend time on silly tales instead of draining chores.

When he arrived, the children had already arranged themselves in a semi-circle about his usual seat. The converted cargo bay was a little warmer now than it had been last month. The plastic sheets and packing supplies had been traded in for proper bedding, courtesy of yours truly. The lights shown a bit more brightly, too, and the heating vents were a bit more generous in their warmth. (Thor had announced they could warm the ship more fully now that they had fuel to spare. Loki had nearly bit his tongue off at that.)

He took his place upon a short crate, a smile on his face as the children’s attention fell to him.

“All right, what are we in the mood for tonight?”

“Something with dragons!” A young voice called out.

“No! A love story!” Another shouted.

“Tell the one about the fisherman!”

A dozen voices filled the bay as Loki tapped his chin in thought. Settling on a tale, he raised his hands for quiet. “All right, all right! Have any of you heard of the loyal hound and his missing master?” Murmurs of ‘no’ met his ears.

And so he began.

 

~~~

 

Fjulla had spoken true, his magic was mesmerizing. In his tale a small worg, a hound, journeyed from land to land in search of his Às companion, traveling through woods and deserts, across seas and stars, and as Prince Loki told his tale the people and places came to life, glowing gently in miniature above their heads. The hound bounded through the room, sometimes dipping low to wend between heads and shoulders before springing back into the air.

And Fjulla was right, he did have a nice voice.

It was hard to pull her gaze away from the light and spectacle, but Juri made a point to watch the mage now and then. She sat towards the back, with the older children, but she could just make out the slight flicks of his fingers and twists of his wrists, directing the puppets in their dance. His movements were subtle and infrequent. It seemed his hands should be a constant blur, giving commands to the illusions twirling about the bay. But his conjured creatures seemed able to act on their own, only needing a slight nudge here and there when the story took a turn.

Was he controlling them some other way?

Juri glanced to her own hands. She’d never tried this sort of magic. Was it at all like Thermoturgy? The illusions were made of light and what better way to create light than through fire?

The hound sniff through the hair of a young girl near the front. She giggled, turning this way and that to catch sight of the little beast.

No. It wasn’t fire. So what was it?

Juri watched the prince’s hands, paying special attention when he conjured a new image, mimicking the movements.

 

~~~

 

The tale was coming to a close, the brave hound digging through an avalanche to rescue his clumsy master, when a glimmer caught Loki’s eye. He didn’t pause in his story but he scanned the crowd for the light’s source.

A girl he didn’t recognize sat in the back, flicking her hands in a clumsy attempt at conjuring. Her form was stiff and her movements unpracticed, but a spark of light lit up her fingers before fizzling out.

Who was that?

 _“ ‘Oh thank you!’ the master said, kissing the hound full on the snout!”_ Loki recited. A chorus of ‘eww’s’ rose from the gathered children as the illusion gave the hound a wet smooch. _“ ‘From now on, you’ll have steak and mutton every night and your bed will sit closest to the fire! For you are a true companion and the bravest hound to ever walk the lands!’ The end.”_

With a wave of his hands the illusions dispersed, sprinkling the children with winking lights. He nudge one sparkling flake to land on the strange girl’s nose. She blinked, looking up from her hands with a wide smile. A familiar smile…

The Jötunn brat!

Loki forced his expression to remain easy and light, but watched the changeling from the corner of his vision. It’s features were softened in this form, its cheeks a little rounder and its limbs a little fuller, but the underlying structure of its jaw, its nose, the shape of its eyes, those were the same. It even wore its hair in those same braids, though they were now auburn instead of snow white.

Did it think him stupid? That he wouldn’t notice? Or was it simply too dull to consider the possibility?

“Tell us another story!”

“Yes, another!”

“Another story?” He murmured. “Hmm…”

He pretended to think as the children shouted suggestions again.

Thor hadn’t expressly forbidden the Jötnar from walking the Æsir’s floors, but that the brat would do so, even in a borrowed form, was a bold insult. What did it hope to accomplish? Was it here to pilfer supplies? To probe the Æsir’s weaknesses? It walked with Asgard’s orphaned children. Did it think to steal one away?

“All right,” Loki said. “How many of you have heard tell of Sigurd and the One Eyed Giant?” None of them had. It was a tale he would spin as he spoke. “Well, then. Listen close, and you may just learn a thing or two.”

As he spoke, he made a point not to look directly at the Jötunn brat, only glancing now and then when it was distracted by his dancing simulacrums— which was not often. More than not, the changeling watched Loki, eyes bright and focused.

_“And Sigurd raised his blade and spake: ‘I have come to end your wicked reign, Giant!’ And so great was his conviction, and so terrible his glare, that the Giant fell to its knees. ‘Please,’ it begged, ‘if you spare my life I will show you to my treasure! You will have more riches than all the Dwarves of Svartalfheim combined.”_

The brat was watching his hands. Looking to his spellcasting.

_“Sigurd agreed to spare the Giant’s life and the beast lead him northward to the edge of a sprawling swamp. But when Sigurd set foot in the mud, a serpent rose to greet him, fangs gleaming in the marsh-light. The snake struck but Sigurd was faster, leaping back to solid ground, much to the Giant’s disappointment._

_“ ‘Villain!’ cried our hero. ‘You thought to feed me to these wyrms?’_

_“ ‘Of course not,’ the Giant squirmed under Sigurd’s steely stare. ‘The danger must have slipped my mind. A moment, please. I will craft you boots of heather to keep the serpent’s sting at bay.’ ”_

_And so the Giant did, and so our hero crossed the swamp. Once on solid ground again, he asked, ‘now where is this treasure?’_

_And the Giant replied, ‘ ‘tis only a little further.’”_

The changeling twisted its hands, sparks of pale light following the movement before sputtering out. It frowned and Loki hurried to look away as the brat turned its attention back to him.

It was mimicking his casting. Did the creature honestly believe itself capable of mastering Asgard’s Arts, sitting on the floor of this rundown wreck?

_“And as he climbed the soaring cliffside, a flock of falcons descended upon him, raking at his scalp and back._

_“ ‘Villain!’ cried our hero. ‘Planned you to see me thrown from the mountain by these raptors?’_

_“ ‘Of course not,’ the Giant frowned, sweat upon its brow. ‘I will fashion you a helmet made of quartz to keep their talons at bay.’_

_And so the Giant did, and so our hero climbed the cliff. Once on the ledge above he asked, ‘now where is this treasure?’_

_And the Giant replied, ‘ ‘tis only a little further.’”_

The Jötunn was still trying to bring its small sparks to life, pulling them into swirling strings about its fingers. It would never manage a proper image like this. Loki had spent a thousand years mastering this art, he had a millennium of tools and tricks to make his simulacrums do as he wished. The brat was trying to run before it had learned to walk.

But...

Loki slowed his hands, exaggerating the movements just a bit, walking through the dance with an exaggerated deliberation.

_“ ‘Villain!’ cried our hero. ‘Did you seek to bind me with these thorns?’_

_“ ‘Of course not,’ the Giant wheedled. ‘I will fashion you a breastplate made of barks to keep their prickers at bay.’”_

A spark caught and grew, becoming something almost like a shadow, featureless and vague, but with some base form. The brat smiled.

It had some talent…

_“ ‘Villain!’ cried our hero. ‘Did you think to drown me in these pools?’_

_“ ‘Of course not,’ the Giant sighed. ‘I will fashion you a spear made of coral to keep their tentacles at bay.’”_

The mushy form limped across the changelings palm, four ‘legs’ moving with all the grace of a drunken horse. But it was something.

The whelp didn’t have skill, no, but that could be learned. No skill, but it had ability, the raw talent necessary to pull energy from its veins and shape it to its will. And if it could channel the energy necessary for an illusion—poorly formed though it was—then there was no reason to think it couldn’t channel external energy as well.

The brat looked up, its grin nearly as bright as the illusion slowly losing shape in its hands. Loki smirked back, meeting the changeling's eyes for the first time. The Jötunn's expression dimmed some under Loki’s unblinking gaze.

Time for a lesson.

_“ ‘Here,’ the Giant said. ‘As promised, my treasure for my life.’_

_“But the Giants hoard was nothing more than bones and rocks, polished and displayed as if they were gold and jewels, as if they were anything more than trash and offal._

_“Enraged, Sigurd turned his coral spear upon the Giant and struck. The beast howled in pain and swept a dirty claw at our hero’s chest, but the bark armor turned its strike aside. Sigurd stabbed the beast again and the giant bellowed, bringing a stone down upon our hero’s head, but his quartz helmet deflected the blow. Sigurd stabbed the beast a third time and it fell to the ground. With the last bits of its strength it kicked out at our hero’s legs, but the heather boots absorbed the blow._

_“Sigurd stabbed the beast once more and with that it died, its blood painting the bones and stones of its hoard a crimson red. But with those drops of blood the useless trinkets were transformed into glittering rubies. The Giant had kept its promise after all, even if unintentionally.”_

The illusions burst in a wash of red, dripping down to disappear just before the crowns of the children below. The Jötunn's own illusion had dispersed, the changeling watching wide eyed as the conjured monster had been slain.

“Tell me, children, what is the moral of our tale?” Loki asked, gaze sweeping across their delighted faces.

“Be prepared for anything!” Trinka exclaimed.

“Good equipment is important.” Ullie said, his hand raised politely.

“Never trust a Giant!” Gullr yelled.

“The moral,” Loki explained, eyes landing on the Changeling. “Always be useful, less someone make use _of_ you.”

The children murmured amongst themselves. It was not a very straightforward moral, not something most of them need concern themselves with. But the moral wasn’t meant for them.

 

~~~

 

Marta clapped her hands and announced it was time for bed. The children groaned and complained but pulled out their sleeping things and claimed their patches of floor. Some younger boys shouted and laughed, pretending to stab dishonest Giants as the Matron tried to settle them down. Juri kept out of their way as she slipped out the bay’s doors.

Prince Loki had seen her, had recognized her, and his smile had not been kind.  

Fjulla hopped into the hallway, bright eyes landing on Juri. “How did you do that?” She asked.

“What?”

“I saw you! You made an image just like the Prince. A little dog!”

“No, I just-- I wanted to see if I could. I need to go.” Juri hugged herself, keeping a distance from the other girl. From the Às.

“But how did you do it?”

“Yes,” another joined them, tall and smirking as he leaned against the door. “How did you do it?”

Fjulla muffled a squeak at the Prince’s appearance, her cheeks growing red.

“I was just… I, I watched you.”

“And have you trained in seiðr before?” he asked, his eyes flickering across her borrowed form. She didn’t know why he asked. He could see she had.

“Yes.”

“Who trained you?”

“My omama—I mean, my grandmother.”

He hummed. Pushing off the door, and approached with a lazy stroll. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

“No.” Juri was finding it difficult to speak up, her voice barely escaping her tight throat. Fjulla’s earlier embarrassment was turning to confusion.

“Tch, tch. Won’t she be worried? Perhaps we best get you back, before she dies of heartache.” He placed a hand upon her arm, turning her towards the elevators down the hall.

Juri sent one glance behind her to see Fjulla’s uncertain wave goodbye.

Prince Loki didn’t speak again until the elevator’s doors had closed and the platform began to descend.

“Have you told anyone?” When Juri didn’t immediately respond, he elaborated. “What you are?”

“No.”

“And what did you hope to accomplish, sneaking about in the halls above?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow.

“I was just curious…”

“So you thought to prowl amongst the Æsir for… fun, is it? Just because you could?”

She didn’t respond.

“You know, of course, had you been found out your blood would now be painting the walls. The Æsir do not take kindly to Jötnar tricks.”

“I just thought, I mean, because they know you are--”

He slammed a fist against the control panel. A blast of green light filled the room and the lift jerked to a halt. Juri stumbled and fell against a wall as Prince Loki snarled, magic crawling over his outstretched arm and across his shoulder, shimmering like the air around a flame.

“I have earned my place here,” he growled. “I have built, and fought, and bled for Asgard and her peoples. Every man, woman, child, and beast on this ship owes me their very lives! And what have you done? Scraped together a few tasteless morsels to bribe your way into our good graces.” He drew a hissing breath in through his teeth. “What use are you? What can you possibly offer to justify your existence on MY ship?”

Another resounding bang and the lift began its descent once more. Loki turned from her, throwing his hair back with a jerk of his head, folding his arms behind his back.

What had she done? What had she done to infuriate him so?

The doors dinged open and Juri scuttled out. The Prince didn’t follow, but held the doors to keep them from closing, watching her as she shivered in the drafty corridor.

“Their hatred of you and your mother will not die,” he said. “It will build, and, some time soon, they will storm these halls and cry out for your lives. What will you offer them?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know. She had nothing to give.

“As I thought.” He sniffed. His earlier fury was tamped down. Were she Às, she might say he looked bored. But the Jötnar were not so obvious in their expressions and the slight tightening of the muscles in his neck showed the tension that still thrummed through his body. “I have a proposition. A way to make yourself useful. Do this for me, and I will turn away their ire when it comes.”

“What is it?”

“Your seiðr. Clumsy as you are, I think you may be of assistance to me. Have you experience channeling foreign energies?”

Of course. That was the very core of Thermoturgy.

She nodded.

“Good,” he said. “I will fetch you tomorrow evening.”

“W-wait! My dame. Zhe doesn’t know. Zhe’d never let me leave the lower holds. And, ah, zhe doesn’t much trust you, either.”

“She sleeps?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll take care of it. Just be ready. Tomorrow. Midnight. Agreed?”

Juri nodded.

“Excellent!” And he smiled a less than kind smile. Stepping back into the elevator, he tapped a button and called through the closing doors, “pleasant dreams, child.”

Juri waited until the sound of the lift faded into the floors above before she ran, bare feet slapping against the cold metal of the corridors.

Her dame was right, the Æsir were cruel and hateful. And Prince Loki was an Às at heart.


	5. In which Loki argues with various people about various things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy butts! Infinity War comes out next week?! Can I manage to finish this fic before IW makes this into an AU?!  
> (Probably not.)  
> But expect more chapters in the coming days!

_“The King looks tired.”_

_“Can you blame him?”_

_“No.”_

_“I saw him the other day, in that hallway near section C3. He was alone, looking out at the stars. I couldn’t see his face, but his breathing was hard.”_

_“We have all lost much.”_

_“Yes.”_

 

~~~

 

“We haven’t been able to pinpoint the source of the interference. It hasn’t caused any major issues, but it would be good to locate the source and shut off whatever is causing it.” Trikertik drew his clawed finger through the air, sending the central hologram into a lazy spin.

Thor nodded, making a note on his tablet. “I will assign someone to locate the signal. Is there anything else?” He glanced around the conference table, clearly hoping there wasn’t.

“Ah,” Lulu raised her webbed hand, catching Thor’s attention. “Our engineers have been unable to locate the spare power cells Prince Loki obtained on Vertex.”

“Is that so?” Thor asked, turning to his brother. Loki was slouched on Thor’s blind side where he was able to make mocking expressions as The King talked.

“Yes, I am aware of the situation,” Loki said, studying his nails. They were getting a bit long. “Not to worry, I believe I know where they were misplaced, somewhere in the lower holds. I’ll be fetching them tonight.”

If all went well, he’d have a couple fully charged cells come morning. With the Jötunn brat acting as a funnel, he should be able to turn all of his focus on reigniting the ship’s spent fusion cells.

“That’s good,” Lulu said. “I’ll have Trikertik help you bring them up.”

“Don’t bother.” He waved a hand. “I’d rather not risk you losing them again. Or have them dropped down a trash chute or some other such thing.”

The Sakaaran representative chuffed at Loki’s casual dismissal, her neck frills turning an irritated orange.

 _“Be nice,”_ his brother muttered, low enough the rest of the table would not hear. Loki kicked his ankle. Thor kicked back.

“Well then,” Kvathi said, swiping his hand across the conference table’s interface inset. The hologram at the room’s center collapsed into neat little folders which were summarily dismissed. “I believe that concludes today’s meeting. Unless there’s anything else--” he began to stand, clearly expecting no response, but Valkyrie raised her hand.

“Loki made one of the Jötnar cry.”

Loki spread his hands, confused and irritated by the accusation. “What?”

“The young one, Juri. I heard you talking to her last night. Didn’t hear what you said but I’m pretty sure she cried.”

“Who cares?”

The members of Thor’s council were standing about the meeting room, most halfway to the door. None of them looked terribly keen to stay and hear whatever childish gibbing Valkyrie was preparing to engage in. Thor dismissed them with a tired wave.

“What is this about?” Thor asked, leaning on a fist. He didn’t look any happier to stay.

“What I said. I’d been visiting with Hulk--”

“Drinking, more like,” Loki drawled.

“And on my way back I heard them. Loki buggered off before I got there, but Juri ran by like the hounds of Hel were on her tail.”

“It-- _She--”_ Loki corrected with no small amount of contempt. “--was poking about the elevators. I told her to scurry on back to her mother before someone less patient came by and took her head.”

“Dick.”

“Wench.”

Thor groaned. “Loki, please don’t threaten the Jötnar.”

“ ‘Twasn’t a threat,” he said. “Are you so naive to think our warriors wouldn’t jump at the chance to slay the beasts? If she wanders out of bounds she puts herself _and_ her mother in danger.”

It was true, even if Loki’s concern wasn’t.

Valkyrie saw his slithering words for what they were. “Yeah, I’m sure that’d just tear you up inside.”

“Well, they _are_ my guests, as you were so kind to point out last week.” He sent her a smile that couldn’t be construed as sincere even by his brain-dead brother.

And he didn’t care to conceal his vitriol. He was certain Valkyrie knew the brat was sneaking off to the floors above, and she hadn’t said anything about it. He wouldn’t be surprised if she were encouraging it just to get under Loki’s skin.

Thor stood, stretching his spine with a grimace. Sitting through meeting after meeting was wearing on him. Loki was surprised Thor had been managing as well as he had. He hadn’t brained a single person in the months since being crowned king, though he often looked as if he’d like to.

“You are right, Loki, that it is best they do not give our warriors reason to pick a fight. But I still ask you to be kinder with your warnings.”

Loki wasn’t sure if he should be pleased Thor was heading his advice or annoyed by the reprimand. He chose the later.

“They’re not hurting anyone,” Valkyrie said, swiveling in her chair as Thor passed.

“Yes, but I have been fielding requests for their execution since they arrived.” And at that, Thor threw his brother an irritated glance. Loki returned his attention to his nails. “Though I will see justice done if any of our people harm them, I would rather avoid conflict if possible.”

“This is bullshit,” Valkyrie spat, stomping to her feet. She pushed passed Thor and out of the meeting room.

Thor sighed, one hand on his hip and the other running through his shorn locks.

“My job would be a lot easier in this if you were not riling the citizens’ fear, Brother.” He did not look at Loki as he spoke.

“Would it?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Thor sighed, pacing back through the room and to the bank of windows at the other end.

“Do you know, I have not slept more than five hours in a night since we left?”

Loki had not known, but he was not surprised. He had not been sleeping well either.

“Everyday it’s something new. The Aquatic Sakaarans need more water. Sigfield’s son is sick from bad rations. The hull on the upper port-side is leaking atmosphere. Luthr and the Vagrison brothers have declared a blood duel. Miek has started a gambling ring on the third floor. It’s never ending. And you--” He turned, flinging an angry hand Loki’s way. “Telling stories of slaying Jötnar. Reminding veterans of those they lost in the war. Whispering ‘concerns’ into parents ears so they might fear for their children. Why?”

“I do believe we’ve discussed this already.”

At length. Many times. Was Thor deaf as well as braindead?

“Yes, but why? What do you hope to gain?”

“Gain? Some piece of mind, perhaps? Keeping such pets about is a dangerous game.” Loki shrugged. “But I can see you are unswayed and my efforts wasted. Fear not, I’ll keep these musings to myself henceforth.” At least, for as long as he had use of the Jötunn youth.

Thor looked as if he was chewing something tough and unpleasant as he stared his brother down.

“What?” Loki asked.

“I think there is more you are not saying.”

“Oh?” Loki drawled. He kept his expression unconcerned. “Do tell.”

“I think...” Thor sighed, Loki was getting tired of all the sighing, and crossed his arms. “I think you fear them, though not for what they may do. No, I believe you fear that our people will see you in them. You would rather they disappear and, with them, all thoughts of your true nature.”

Oh, how wise Thor must feel right now. How grand and kingly. Loki ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth, feeling the need to bite something, with words if nothing else. “And what is that ‘true nature,’ Thor?”

“Your Jötunn nature.”

“And what is the nature of a Jötunn?”

Thor, seeing where this was going, set his jaw.

“What is it?”

“Loki...”

“What is it, Thor?”

Thor shook his head, refusing to answer, but the word hung thick between them.

_Monstrous._

Thor sighed yet again, letting his hands fall loose at his sides. “I have duties to attend to. I imagine you do as well.”

Loki leaned back in his seat, mouth a thin line as Thor left. The quiet hum of machinery filled the conference room in his absence.

Monsters. Useful monsters, but monsters nonetheless. He would use them, and then discard them, as one did with such beasts.

It was their rightful place.

 

~~~

 

He waited until after midnight to head to the lower hold. Those few people still awake lounged about, playing card games or trading gossip over weak tea. There would be no one working the engine rooms so late, no one carting goods from storage to the meal hall.

A chill traveled up his spine as he stepped from the lift. There was no need to heat this level, the Beast was unaffected by the cold and the Giants certainly didn’t mind. It was darker down here, too. With no workers walking the halls, the overheads had been turned off for the night. Only the safety lights lining the walkways and the dim glow of control panels lit the way.

Loki sniffed and straightened his leathers, picking his way to the main cargo bay. He saw no sign of the younger Jötunn in the halls, but a shadow moved when he entered the loading bay. She sat by the double doors to The Hulk’s lair, leaning against the jam, but stood as he approached, blue skin pale in the dim hold.

Loki stopped some paces away, eying the slight gap between the doors. “Is your… mother awake?”

 _“Yes.”_ She kept her voice low, just loud enough to be heard over the ever-present hum of distant engines. Like this, as a Jötunn, her voice was deeper and lacking in inflection. Hard to believe this creature was female.

“Hm, very well. Turn about,” he said, twirling a finger.

The Jötunn blinked then did as instructed, though she kept her eyes on him as long as she could, straining her neck and turning to face him again quickly.

“All right,” Loki said, “now repeat after me:

 _"Wealth is a comfort to every man,_  
_"_ _yet every man must divide it mightily,_ _  
_ _"If   he wishes to have the measurer’s mercy.”_

“Why?” The Jötunn's brow crinkled slightly.

“Why must he divide it or why must you repeat after me?”

“The latter.”

“Because I need to learn the cadence of your voice, otherwise I will be unable to recreate it accurately. Now, repeat after me: _Wealth is a comfort to every man.”_

“ _Wealth is a comfort to every man...”_

Loki lead the Jötunn through the rune poem one stanza at a time until he felt he had the feel of her speech. He then asked her how she addressed her mother _(Oma. Or ‘My Dame,’ if I’m in trouble.)_ as well as where and how she typically slept _(Beside my dame. On my side, I suppose.)_

“Hm, well, you’re a youth, aren’t you? You’ll be throwing a tantrum and sleeping on the other side of the bay tonight.”

Before the Giant could ask what he meant, Loki drew power from his core, weaving it into a replica of the Jötunn. The simulacrum stood in an easy slouch, a contrast to the original’s stiff shock. The Jötunn reached out a hand, fingers passing through the illusion’s arm with a crackle of light.

“Stop it,” Loki reprimanded and the Jötunn drew her hand back as if stung.

He studied the copy, adjusting details to better match the living being beside it, then infused it with a simple will. It turned, slipping through the doors and into the hold beyond. It would sit by itself, sulking and expelling teenage angst at anyone who tried to speak with it.

The girl watched her double through the doors, eyes wide.

 _“How do you do that?”_ She whispered.

“Magic. Now change forms and follow me.”

She scowled at him (Loki made note of the expression, sending an adjustment to the simulacrum before it wandered out of range) and began to shift. Halfway through Loki realized she was shifting only her form and not her clothes and hastily turned his gaze.

_Did the Jötnar have no sense of decency?_

When she was finished (and dressed) he lead them through the ship towards the engine rooms. The path they took was largely abandoned, but there were a couple Sakaarans whispering in an alcove along one hallway. They waved at him as he passed and he returned with a quick smile. The changeling hurried at his heels, sneaking glances back at the aliens.

“Do you know them?”

“I’m their leader,” he answered with an amused cock of his head.

“Not Thor?”

“I recruited the Sakaarans and obtained this ship. Thor’s here by my leave.”

That was mostly true. Ostensibly, Loki was in charge of the Sakaaran passengers. In practice, he let them alone and only intervened when necessary. Or when bored. Thor did give them more orders than Loki himself, though most of those orders went ignored.

“I heard something about the Battle Of Asgard,” the girl said, “From Brunnhilde and Hulk. Though Hulk’s telling is a little confusing.”

“Mm, well, he spent most of it swimming.”

“It was King Thor’s sister, wasn’t it? Who attacked?”

Loki nodded.

“Why?”

Loki shrugged. “She was a death-crazed maniac with a grudge.”

“But she was his sister.”

“Well, Thor has a way of enticing murderous thoughts,” he growled. They’d come to the engine rooms and Loki keyed into the passcode for the doors. They slid open, spilling wet heat into the corridor. He waved the girl in, but she simply stood, staring at him.

“What?”

“Murderous thoughts?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had these 'murderous thoughts?'”

“A little. Now come.”

“What do you mean ‘a little?’” Her voice squeaked on the question. “Aren’t you blood-brothers?”

“Technically, we never took that oath. And in any case, _most_ of Thor’s friends have made attempts on his life. He invites it.”

Also mostly true. Volstagg had never made any attempts, and the others had never taken it as far as Loki, but Sif had certainly come close.

“You try to kill your king?!”

“He was a prince at the time, and stop looking so shocked. He survived, didn’t he? Now,” Loki pointed through the open door, brows raised in exasperation. “Go.”

The child stepped through, taking the clanging stairs slowly. She clearly felt uncomfortable having her back to him, but was doing an admirable job keeping her gaze ahead.

Loki had to duck steaming pipework on the descent and his leathers grew uncomfortably warm in the heated air. The girl was sweating, the hair of her temples growing slick, the back of her blue dress growing dark with damp. He suspected the heat was worse for her, having little experience outside Jotenheim’s climate.

The central generator was a great column in the middle of the room, lined with glowing power cells and a mosaic of buttons, switches, and lights. Loki lead them along the catwalk and down more stairs to the bottom floor where the used cells sat stacked in haphazard piles. He grabbed one up, tossing the disk in his hand.

“Have you any experience channeling foreign energies?”

She stood awkwardly, staring at him with a stupid expression.

He huffed in irritation. “That is, harnessing power from something outside yourself to use for your--”

“Of course,” she interrupted. “How else would I make ice?”

Ah, yes, that would fit the description, wouldn’t it? The Jötnar drew heat into themselves for warmth and, as a side effect, were able to create and manipulate ice. Loki didn’t care for the brat’s tone, though.

“This will be considerably more complicated than making a little slush,” he sneered. He held up the spent power cell. “You see this? These fuel the ship. Without them, there is no thrust, no light, and no life support. I have a power source capable of recharging them, but it is exceedingly volatile. This power source draws from the weft and weave of space itself, the tensions between dimensions and the pull of planets and stars upon the fabric of reality. Quite simply, it takes the weight of the universe and converts it into pure energy.

“Even with my centuries of training, this Source is too much for me to wield alone. That’s where you come in.”

Loki tossed her the spent cell, frowning as she fumbled to catch it.

“I need you to help me funnel its power into these fuel cells. If we pour too much in at once, the cell will overload, rendering it useless.”

“What happens when it overloads?” She asked, eyeing the cell like it might explode.”

“It might explode.”

She held the cell further from her body.

“Or it might just smoke and melt and cause an unpleasant stink. Either way, we’re out a receptacle and no closer to our goal.” Loki clapped his hands and brought them down to point at the girl. “So don’t screw it up. Let’s get started.”

He had her stand back as he arranged their workspace. He summoned his ritual mat, already lined with runes and sigils, and cleaned a space on the floor to place it. The mat’s runes sparked with static, the residual energies from his previous sessions with The Cube. He placed an assortment of powdered metals and glass in their appropriate nodes, materials to conduct and dampen as appropriate, then beckoned the girl over and to lay the cell in the mat’s center. He knelt opposite her.

“Right, hold your hands here-- No, no! Don’t move, you must maintain the proper distance from the receptacle below. Yes. Now, I will summon the power source. You will feed its energies to me, little by little, holding back as much of it as you can. Better to do this too slowly than too fast.”

The girl nodded, biting her lower lip.

“All right. On three. One, two--”

He summoned the Tesseract forth, setting it to hover above the girl’s hands.

“Do you have it?” he asked. She nodded again, squinting against it’s cold light. Loki took his hands away and she gasped as the full power of the Tesseract drove into her palms.

“Good, now hold--”

But the energy was too much for the whelp and she yank her hands away with a squeal. Loki dove forward, snatching The Cube before it could impact the power cell. It flared in his grasp, it’s energies digging their way into his flesh and singeing it from the inside out, and he shoved it back into his dimensional pocket with a howl.

“Dammit, girl!” He shouted, wringing his hands. The wild power had snapped up his forearms, surging along the ley lines beneath his skin, heating them like electrified wires.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I couldn’t hold it!” She had her own arms clasped against her belly, her eyes squeezed shut and leaking.

He yelled, surging to his feet and kicking the fuel cell into the central generator where it bounced and, luckily, did not explode. He ran his tingling hands through his hair, breathing through his teeth, until he could stand to look at the little brat.

“We will try again.”

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry, it’s too much. It’s like holding fire.”

“It’s perfectly possible to hold fire if you put your feeble mind to it!”

The girl shook her head, not in denial, but out of hopelessness. “I--I know. But I’ve never been all that skilled at Thermoturgy. Perhaps my dame. Zhe knows how to wield fire--”

“This _isn’t_ fire! This is seiðr of the highest order. Can your dame bend the cosmos to her will?”

“Of course not--”

“Then she is of no use to me!”

“But I can’t either!”

“Then you’re useless too!” He shouted down at her hunched form.

What use was the Jötunn brat if she couldn’t so much as hold the bloody thing, let alone temper its flow? He may as well ask for Thor’s inelegant aid, to spew the Tesseract’s energy about like a high pressure hose and hope some of it landed where he needed.

A deep breath, then another. He forced his himself to calm.

No. The girl was unskilled but not without talent. She was capable of shifting, which required a great deal of knowledge of one’s own body and magics. And he’d seen her weave basic illusions, which required skill in energy manipulations. She was a novice and couldn’t have been more than six hundred years old. What’s more, she’d had no instruction in Ás or Elf magics, only the backwards knowledge of the Jötnar. He shouldn’t be surprised she’d failed. It would have been a shock had she not.

This would take longer than he’d hoped.

“What training have you had?” He asked, forcing away the bite in his tone. “Clearly you’ve had some, to change your shape as you do.”

The girl sniffed, still clutching herself as she knelt on the floor. “My Omama taught me. Zhe was a shifter, too. And my Oma teaches me Thermoturgy, but I’m not as good at it.”

“And what of illusions? I’ve seen you do some things with light.”

She shrugged. “That was the first I tried it.”

He sighed. “So that’s it? A bit of shifting and heat magic?”

“I-- I know a couple spells to find things, or track animals. And I can make a plant grow better over a season.”

“There are many ways to do those things. What schools of magic do you utilize?”

She gave a helpless shrug. The Jötunn beasts must not approach magic instruction with much organization.

“All right, then tell me, what does it feel like to grow a plant?”

“It feels…” she thought for a moment, clearly unnerved by his earlier outburst. “It feels like touching it. On the inside. Like the plant is made of little rivers and I’m redirecting them to flow better. I have to be careful though, because it’s easy to break them and then the plant will wilt or die.” She glanced up at him, judging his response. Her shoulders loosened at his calm expression and thoughtful nod.

“Good. Yes, I would say that falls under the purview of healing magic.”

Loki began to pace. He didn’t have much experience as an instructor. Mostly he’d been a student or a peer, discussing magic with those as skilled or more so than himself. When he began to outpace his tutors in Asgard, his mother had sent him to Alfheim for more in depth instruction. When he’d outpaced the other students he had been paired with the brightest amongst the institute for personal instruction by the dean. He’d never before had reason to slow his thoughts or theories for lesser minds.

He’d never had a lesser mind interested in listening.

He tapped a finger against his lips, thinking. “Imagine those rivers infuse all of creation, for they do. In different flavors, in different colors and intensities, but always present. Even the empty air holds currents of power.” He reached out, feeling along the currents and giving a little tap to one. It lit up like a spiderweb throughout the room, thicker about himself and the girl, around the humming engine, the wires in the walls, and softening to a loose lattice work elsewhere. “Magic is the manipulation of these currents. One can manipulate the body to grow strong or fall ill. One can manipulate the heat and water in the air to create rain or snow. One can bend light into phantasms. Redirect gravity to make an object lighter or heavier. You might even follow a current to where it slips beyond the senses and use it to find paths outside the world you know.”

Loki pulled forth the Tesseract once more. It’s energy stung his hands and arms like lemon juice on paper cuts but, being prepared for it this time, he was able to keep The Cube’s magics in check.

“This artifact does just that. It is a knotwork of currents flowing through the higher dimensions. A junction of roads, if you will, leading to every corner of the cosmos. The flow of energy through it from infinite origins and destinations creates a nigh limitless source of power.

“But, as you have noticed,” he said, with a pointed look at her cradled arms, “such power is difficult to control. One cannot simply dip into it as you would a stream. You must siphon from it with the respect you’d show flooded rapids.”

The girl was listening, interested, but still nervous. Good.

“Something it would seem you are unprepared for.” He sent The Cube away one more time. “Well, then. This was a waste of time.”

Loki snapped his fingers and the ceremony mat rolled itself up and disappeared with a ‘thwap,’ taking the spell components with it. They’d stay suspended in time until he had use for them.

“W-wait!” The girl said, standing into an awkward hunch over her injured hands. “I can try again. I-I just wasn’t ready.”

“No, you weren’t and you aren’t,” he agreed, starting for the stairs. He heard her following, the tinny sound of her footsteps hurrying behind.

“I can do it. Please, let me try again.”

He chanced a glance over his shoulder as they climbed. Her eyes were wide and she was making a concentrated effort to hold her arms by her sides in a casual manner, ignoring the aching they must feel. She was afraid, afraid to be of no use in a ship of Asgard. Good.

“You need practice,” he said, stepping from the engine room into the blessedly cool hallway beyond. The bone deep hum of the engine grew fainter as they made their way back to the main cargo bays. “I will give you three days. You will spend those days harnessing the ambient currents, holding them, and redirecting them. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes.” She said it with a conviction he was sure she didn’t feel.

“Good. Hold the energies for as long as you can, then release them slowly. This will hone your control and precision, as well as your stamina.” He paused as they came to the loading bay. They could see the faint glow spilling from The Hulk’s quarters on the other side of the hull. The girl’s Giant mother would be within, as would the doppelganger he’d conjured earlier. Though it was unlikely the older Jötunn would hear, Loki lowered his voice anyway. “Are my instructions clear?”

The girl matched his volume when she answered, though some irritation crept into her voice. “Yes. My Dame has me do similar with Thermoturgy.”

“Ah,” Loki held up a finger. “An important distinction; this is most definitely not simple Jötunn ice magic. If you approach it the same, by drawing the energy into yourself, you will char your organs from the inside out.” He let that image sink in then added, “if you’re lucky.”

He could tell she wanted to know what would happen if she weren’t lucky, but held her tongue. She glared at him with a clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“Now then, any questions?”

“No.”

“Excellent!”

Loki waved his hand and the girl’s doppelganger appeared at the hanger’s door. A deep voice spoke from inside as Loki and his lacky crossed the bay to meet it. The simulacrum wore a sour expression as it called over it’s shoulder, “I just want some air,” before it slumped outside the door jam.

The changeling girl stripped off her blue dress (Loki averted his gaze, again. Perhaps their next lesson would be on decency.) then shifted into her Jötunn form and donned the brown and yellow kilt. When she was done, Loki dismissed the doppelganger with a flick of his wrist.

“Right,” he said. “Three days. I expect you to be an uncontested master of the art by then.”

The Jötunn rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.


	6. In which homework is interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU'RE GETTING TWO CHAPTERS TODAY!
> 
> The first is a bit short, so I'm bundling it with another. Whoop! It'll be up shortly.

It was two days since Prince Loki had tasked zher with practicing zher seiðr and zhe hadn't be able to practice even once. The doppelganger he’d conjured to take Juri’s place had been surely and rude, and zher dame had not taken the disrespect well. If they had still been on Jötunheim, zher dame would have assigned zher extra chores and taken away zher wandering privileges. But here, there was little to be done and nowhere to explore, so zher dame had sat Juri facing a corner for five hours. Straight. After that, Brunnhilde had come to visit Hulk and the two of them had insisted Juri and zher dame join them for cards. Then it was dinner and then zher dame had sent Juri to bed. No complaining allowed.

The next day zher dame had insisted they do their exercises. Being sedentary for months at a time would put a person in poor health, and so Oma had developed a routine to combat this. Oma also insisted Juri go through zher katas, correcting zher form and critiquing zher footing.

Some time after noon Juri finally managed to wriggle out of zher dame’s attentions, slipping into the main cargo bay. A few Sakaarans were poking about the crates, gathering supplies for the passengers above. They ignored Juri and zhe returned the favor, finding a clear patch of floor hidden behind a wall of steal crates. Zhe settled down cross legged and let zher eyes fall half-closed, reaching out with zher seiðr for the rivers of energy flowing through the hull.

Zhe imagined them to be an ethereal blue, like the color of light filtered through thick ice. In truth, it had no color, just a feeling on the inside of zher heart, but the visualization helped zher foccus.

There were less streams here than in the engine room. The inert alloys of the ship held little energy, though the electrical wires threaded through its walls drew a decent current. Some of the boxes in the bay, too, held a little more energy than others. Zhe suspected they contained organic material, or perhaps well used tools.

The cloak pin Juri’s Omama had given zher drew more power than did the anklet Juri had purchased for zherself. The sash zher sire had gifted zher drew more energy than did the kilt it held up.

Did thoughts and feelings linger upon the objects zhe held dear?

Juri lifted zher hands to cup the cloak pin, not touching, but reaching for the tingling hum that surrounded. The energy fell over zher palms like feathers, or the light brush of fur. Worg fur.

The smell of hunting beasts reared in the back of zher throat, thick and musky, the distant sound of howling dancing at the edge of zher hearing. Juri gasp, lips drawn into a smile.

Omama.

Juri let the feeling fade, slowly drawing from the pin’s memories. Zhe wiped zher eyes, blinking away the small moisture gathering there. Zhe wouldn’t use something so precious for practice.

Juri’s smile remained as zhe turned zher attention to the ship’s streams.

~~~

Juri wasn’t sure how long it had been when zhe was roused from zher trance. Zhe blinked, becoming aware of the bright presence to zher right.

Oma stood, leaning against a wall of secured crates, gazing down on Juri with a thoughtful expression.

“Those are Às magics,” Oma said, the rumble of zher voice joining the hum of the ship. Juri could almost see the shape of Oma’s words as they dispersed in the air, rippling across the energy streams.

Juri shook zher head and zher vision realigned, the streams sinking out of focus.

“I, um,” Juri’s head felt slow, still realigning to the everyday feeling of the material world.

“Where did you learn it?” Zher dam didn’t sound angry. At least, not yet.

What could zhe say? Certainly not the truth. But where else would zhe have seen Às magic?

“I, uh, I saw Brunnhilde doing it. The other day.” Juri wasn’t sure if Brunnhilde knew any seiðr but it was possible, and that was enough. “She said it’s a way to practice and increase your constitution.”

“Hm.”

“Is that all right?” If it wasn’t all right then it would make practicing much more difficult. And Juri had to practice. If zhe didn’t, if zhe couldn’t be of use to Prince Loki…

Zhe had to get this right.

Zher dame pushed off from the crates and came to sit opposite Juri. The space was cramped with the two of them, their crossed legs only inches apart.

“I will not stop you from pursuing this, though I would encourage caution. The Às way of magic is a dangerous way. They do not work with the flow of things. Instead, they seek to bend the world to their will. But the world is not an inert thing and it does not take kindly to pushy masters. If you are uncareful, you will come to harm.”

“I’m being careful. I’m starting small, with little streams.” Or, zhe had started with little streams. Zhe’d gotten bored of that quickly.

Oma tilted zher head, a small thing, inviting Juri to demonstrate.

Juri took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Oma was never very skilled with seiðr outside Thermoturgy, but zhe had grown up under Omama’s tutelage. Zhe knew what skilled magic looked like.

Juri reached out, feeling the air beneath zher fingertips, searching for the static feeling of concentrated energies. Finding one, zhe pulled it to zher.

The stream sparked, sending a jolt into zher left hand before snapping away. Juri flinched and glanced at zher dame, but Oma continued to watch with patience.

Juri shook zherself out and tried again, tugging at the stream with renewed purpose. This time zhe kept hold of it, the energies pooling in zher palm. It looked like heat over a fire, the air wavering within zher cupped hands. Juri waited for zher dame’s nod of approval before releasing the energy in a controlled flow.

“What do you think?” Juri asked, letting zher hands rest on zher thighs.

“I think you will be very powerful some day. And I wish I had paid more mind to my Oma’s teachings. I wish you had a master under whom to study.”

Juri nodded, dropping zher gaze.

“We will find you someone,” Oma said, prodding Juri’s shin with zher own foot until Juri was forced to smile.

“Where will we?” Juri asked, zher smile fading, though not disappearing entirely.

Oma shook zher head. Zhe had no answer.

Juri bit zher lip. This might be pushing zher luck, but, “there are seiðrmasters here.”

Zher dame’s expression dropped into the blank stare of a soldier.

“I know it’s unlikely, but if one of them were to agree…?”

“They would not.”

“Can we be sure? Brunnhilde is not unkind. Or if I shifted, they needn’t even know I’m not one of them.”

“Do not even think such things, child!” The wavering of Oma’s voice broke through zher forced calm, anger and fear tugging at the corners of zher eyes. “Do you think yourself so skilled as to fool a seiðrmaster? Are you so arrogant? And when your deception is discovered what do you think their reactions will be? Do you expect congratulations? No, they will label you a liar and a danger. They will use your trespass as an excuse to take your head.”

Juri didn’t respond. Had that not happened already? Prince Loki had known zher immediately, without so much as a word exchanged. And had Loki not needed zher service, would he have hesitated to strike zher down? Zhe couldn’t say. Zhe hoped not, but…

Zher dame must have taken zher silence as obstinacy, for zhe continued. “Would you risk yourself for your pride? Would you risk the life of my only child on such a foolish venture?” Oma’s growling rumble deepened as zhe spoke. “Then let me tell you what will happen upon your death. I will find the ones who took you from me and I will steal the life-heat from their blood. I will tear their throats out and crush their skulls and they will kill me in turn. If you leave me I will follow you into the abyss.”

Oma’s glare drilled into Juri leaving zher feeling sick. Images of zher dame bloody and roaring as the Às overwhelmed zher, falling to the gore-slicked floor as weapons burrowed into zher flesh.

Juri’s voice was tight, zher throat closing around the words as zhe stuttered, “I-I won’t. I won’t leave you. I’m sorry. I--” Zhe choked, wiping at zher burning eyes.

Oma’s frame relaxed with a grumbling sigh and zhe reached out to Juri with one large hand. “Here.”

Juri crawled into zher Oma’s lap. Zhe was getting too big for this, but for now zhe fit well enough. Oma ran zher fingers through Juri’s braids, rubbing circles between Juri’s shoulders with the other hand.

Oh, what a mess zhe’d wheedled zherself into. Juri had been so excited to explore the Às levels in disguise, had been so eager to watch Prince Loki's magics, and now both Juri and Oma’s lives hung on Juri’s untested abilities. Zhe’d heard enough vicious whispers amongst the Æsir to know Loki’s threats were real. The Æsir did not want them on this ship and they had precious few allies. Juri believed Brunnhilde to be honestly kind, but how much influence did the Às lady wield?

If the Æsir turned on them, there was very little Juri of zher dame could do. Oma’s predictions would come to pass, unless Juri remained _useful._

“Why do they hate us so?” Juri whispered into Oma’s collarbone.

“Because we do not bow.” Oma’s breath rumbled across Juri’s brow, zher words reverberating through Juri’s chest. “The others of the nine, they bend the knee to Asgard’s power.”

“But we surrendered. Just like the Vanir and the Elves. But Asgard does not hate them.”

“Laufey surrendered, that is true. In name, we are vassals of Asgard,” and Oma’s voice grew hard as zhe said that. “But we do not bow. We do not worship the Æsir as god like the Mortals do. We do not flatter and flutter like the Elves nor call Odin our Father as do the Vanir. Asgard has enacted its laws upon our bodies but they cannot chain our hearts, and so they hate us.”

“It’s stupid,” Juri said. “They aren’t even Asgard anymore. They’re just refugees without a home. No one will bow to them now.”

Oma’s hum had a pleased sound to it. “Yes… Though, it is best we are not here when they realize this.”

Juri glanced at zher Oma in question.

“The powerful grow vicious when they see their power fade.”


	7. In which magical theory is discussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the two chapter update! Yaaaay.  
> (So make sure you read the last chapter, too!)

_“Did you hear what happened on the on the upper levels? With the King and his brother?”_

_“I have heard many tales about those two. Perhaps you could be more specific.”_

_“The king was threatening to string Loki up by his ears. Something about batteries.”_

_“Did he steal them?”_

_“I’m not sure. I think he angered the Sakaarans about something.”_

_“Well, as long as I’m not caught in the crossfire.”_

_“Do you remember the time Loki lined a ceremonial fire pit with Elvish fireworks? One nearly took out Odin’s other eye!”_

_“I wasn’t there for that.”_

_“You would have loved it! I was in the general audience, so I couldn’t see much. But suddenly all the nobles were screeching bloody murder! They ran by the rest of us, got their fancy shoes all muddy while the sky danced with fire.”_

_“Was the Prince strung up by the ears then, too?”_

_“Well, I was hardly privy to the fallout, but I’m sure the King was less than pleased.”_

 

~~~

 

Loki was tired. Tired, but unable to sleep. The Sakaaran engineers had informed Thor that Loki had yet to deliver the promised fuel cells. Thor, in turn had turned his full attention on Loki who had needed to do some very fancy verbal dancing to get him to leave his room. He needed more time.

He didn’t have time.

Shortly after dinner, Loki slipped down to the cargo bay. The Jötunn child wasn’t there to greet him and Loki spared a moment to silently curse the brat before working a spell of invisibility. Such magic required a great deal of concentration. Bending the light about himself was not exceptionally difficult, but hiding the warp of it as he moved was. If one wasn’t careful, their passing would have the shimmering appearance of a mirage.

He dulled the sound of his footfalls as he entered the Giant’s quarters and reached out with his seiðr.

Walking unseen was difficult for another reason. Bending the light about himself meant none could reach his own eyes. Instead, he relied on the flow of seiðr in the room to guide him, the sluggish quiet of steel beneath his feet, the bright hum of electricity in the walls, the burning knotworks of living things both big and small and the free flow of air about it all.

Hulk slouched to his right, a confused tangle of two half-formed beings, like someone had woven two tapestries together with the manic skill of a toddler. The beast slept and, for that, Loki was thankful.

To his left was the deep pool of the older Jötunn. Her threads formed a thick blanket over something heavy beneath. It spoke of discipline, though the weaving was less ordered than that of an Às soldier.

The younger sat near her mother, plucking at the currents of the room. Her threads shifted and billowed as she sent her seiðr out from herself. As Loki approach he let her magic brush against his. Her seiðr retreated with a snap, falling back into her own body as she woke from her trance.

Loki leant beside the girl’s ear and whispered, _“it’s time.”_

He sensed the movement of her head as she nodded.

“Oma, I’m going to practice in the outer bay. Is that all right?”

The older giant hummed in what must have been agreement. The girl stood and Loki followed her out. She stopped when they were out of sight of the others.

 _“Prince Loki?”_ She whispered in entirely the wrong direction. _“Are you here?”_

Loki let the spell drop and smirked as the giant startled.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” She spoke a little louder now that he was visible. Many people felt the need to whisper when he was unseen. It never failed to amuse him.

“Yes,” he said. “And much more. Have you been practicing?”

The giant nodded, bringing her hands up and pulling currents into her cupped palms. He liked the speed with which she did it, though the amount of energy she drew was small.

“Can you hold more than that?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face _(aw, she’d hoped for praise)_ but she set her jaw and did as he asked, drawing more and more magic from the air until her brow grew slick with sweat and the air in her hands grew hot.

“Enough.”

She breathed a sigh, but kept herself in check as she let the energy go in a measured flow.

Good. He could work with this.

 

~~~

 

The ritual mat was set and Loki and the girl were seated in position. She’d changed back to her Às form, the loose fitting blue dress collecting grime from the engine room’s oily floor. She was nervous but determined, staring Loki down in what she must have thought was a stoic manner. He’d describe it as more of a pout, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“Ready?” he asked, holding the Tesseract above the rune-scribed mat.

She nodded, stretching her hands out beneath his own.

“Remember, I only need a little at a time. Hold as much back as you can unless I tell you otherwise.”

When she nodded again, he released The Cube, letting it fall the few inches to her palms, where it bobbed like an apple on the surface of a pond. The girl gave a little gasp as its energies sought her out, trying to force its way through her magic and flesh, but she screwed up her face and pushed back. She was not entirely successful containing it, arcs of light peeling from the Tesseract and seeping into the room at large, but not so much as to cause any significant damage.

Loki let a small smile of relief cross his face.

“Good. Good.” He brought his hands below hers, hovering above the spent fuel cell. “You may begin.”

The snap of power was abrupt, like a whiplash against his palms, but he was expecting that. He began to move, pulling and pushing and twisting the currents into the right resonance then feeding it into the cell.

The particular fuel cell Loki was using worked by fusing hydrogen into helium and harnessing the excess energy created in the process. Once all of the available hydrogen had been converted the cell became useless, unable to produce temperatures sufficient to fuse helium. Loki could, conceivably, use the Tesseract to reach the required temperature, however he highly doubted the cell’s casing could withstand such heat.

Instead, he would use the Tesseract’s power to split the helium atoms back into hydrogen, then restart the initial fusion process.

Loki grit his teeth, plunging his consciousness into the cell, letting his seiðr filter into the smallest places, into those gaps between atoms and then yet further into the empty spaces within the atoms themselves. So small, seemingly insignificant, yet the bonds of these particles contained enough power to level a city.

With the steady stream of the Tesseract’s energy giving him the strength he needed, Loki rent the very elements apart.

He came back to himself, panting and sweating. His hands were shaking. He could hear his heart within his ears and feel the heat of his blood beneath his skin. He was heat, and light, and _fire._

A whimper broke through his daze and he looked up to see the girl across from him, her hair slick with sweat and her face flushed with effort. She was seconds from dropping the Tesseract.

Loki snatched The Cube from her hands and banished it. The girl gasped, slumping and letting her arms fall limp by her sides. She looked like she might be ill.

The cell, through... The cell glowed with an azure light, bright enough to leave spotted afterimages behind his lids.

It worked.

It worked!

Loki whooped, surging to his feet, then nearly falling back down as he became lightheaded. He giggled against the floating feeling as his balance slowly settled.

“It worked! It worked, by Bor’s blood, it worked!”

The girl rasped something that might have been ‘it did?,’ though her voice was wispy and strained.

“It did!” He laughed some more, scooping up the cell to analyze it more closely.

Since some of the initial mass had been lost in the fusion process, and yet more now through fission, the cells would not last as long as before. This one was, perhaps, at seventy two percent power. But he could repeat the process more than once and he had plenty of cells on which to do it. They would make it to Midgard after all.

Perhaps he could find a way to add mass to the cells, perhaps even improve on the initial design. Could he synthesize hydrogen from the Tesseract’s energies? Or maybe draw it from somewhere through The Cube, teleport the element directly into the cell’s reserves? He’d have to think on it.

The girl was giggling now, too, swaying slightly and eyes lidded. It was clear she wouldn’t be able to charge another cell this night (If he were being honest, Loki wasn’t in any shape to continue, either), but he was too relieved to care.

It worked. The process was proven. The pressure to get things right was lifted. He needn’t do it all tonight, they could continue this later.

“Come,” he said, “That is enough for tonight.” The ritual mat was sparking with the Tesseract’s excess energy. With a flick of his wrist he sent it back to his dimensional pocket. He could rinse out the residual energy another day.

The girl looked relieved but nearly toppled over as she stood. Loki reached out on instinct, steadying her by the elbow.

“M’fine…” She said, though this was followed by staring blankly into space.

“Perhaps a quick rest before we get you back, hm?”

She grunted with a nod and Loki lead her to the wall, helping her to slide back to the floor. It wasn’t surprising, her exhaustion. Frankly, she probably should have died, with as little training as she possessed. Loki sent the recharged fusion cell into dimensional storage as well, he would present it to Thor later, and joined the girl on the floor.

The girl, what was her name again?

“Jora?” She didn’t respond. “Jorthis.”

She blinked at him, mouth slightly ajar with fatigue.

“Jorthis?”

“Are you asking me my name?”

Loki chuckled. “I take it I got it wrong.”

“Juri.”

“Mm, right. Here,” he plucked a nutrient bar from his dimensional pocket and gave her half, taking the rest for himself. “Eat. It’ll help.”

They sat in silence for a time, making their ways slowly through the candy bars. If Thor knew Loki kept this little store of rations he’d be quite cross, which is why Loki hadn’t included them in the initial supply count. As far as the kitchens knew, they’d never existed.

The girl, Juri, chewed listlessly by his side. “How many more do we need to do?”

“Quite a lot.”

She nodded, biting her remaining bar in half. “So, you’ll have need of me for quite a while.”

Her words had a caustic edge to them and he might have taken offense were he in a poorer mood. Instead he chuckled.

“Yes. I will.”

She very pointedly kept her eyes locked on the floor as she bit what was left of the candybar in half again. Well, someone grew testy when tired.

“You did well,” Loki said. That got him a quick, questioning look. “Always room for improvement, of course.” Back to staring at the floor. “But not bad. Especially considering your training. Or lack thereof.”

“I’ve trained.”

“Yes, yes, in ice magic--”

“Yes, in ice magic! And other magics. My Omama was shapefluid and she could predict the weather and the hunt.”

Loki scoffed.

“She could!”

“I’ve no doubt. Paltry farm magic.”

“Zhe once repopulated a barren forest with just four hreindyr. Two thousand and twenty eight beasts in just one season with her ‘paltry farm magic.’”

Loki tilted his head in acknowledgement. Increasing an animal’s birth rate so drastically would require some small skill.

“She’s dead then? Your ‘Omama?’” The girl spoke of her grandmother in the past tense.

“Yes.” Juri’s churlish mood evaperated. “Zhe was old even when I was young. A gar-beast was raiding one of the nearby camps. Zhe went to their aid in zher worg-form. Alone.” She pursed her lips, rolling the melting chunk of nutribar between her fingers.

What was with this ‘zhe’ nonsense? Did the child have a speech impediment?

Juri shook her head, changing subjects. “You, uhm, you learned magic on Asgard.”

“Was that a question?”

She shrugged.

He answered anyway. “Yes. At first. I then studied in Alfheim at the University of Vithblainn under Master Dainn himself.” The girl showed no recognition at the name. Loki sighed and explained, “he is an exceptional seiðrmaster.”

“Is that where you learned to conjure illusions?”

A fair guess, if incorrect. The elves were renowned for their illusions and lightcraft.

“No, though I expanded my skills there. My…” Loki hesitated over his wording. He’d denied Frigg in life, in his last words to her. He would not dishonor her in death. “My mother taught me, The Queen. She was exceptional. A match for Odin himself.”

“How do they work?”

“Hm?” He raised a brow.

“The doppelgangers. How do they work? I’ve tried conjuring a few things. Little ones. But I have to concentrate just to make them walk and I’ve no idea how to make them say anything. But yours walk and talk and think and you don’t even have to be there to make them! How?”

“Ah, just a bit of preparation.”

Juri waited for him to expand on that, her fatigue fading some in interest.

“You truly want me to go into the details of simulacrum synthesis?” Despite himself, Loki felt that little spark of excitement he got when discussing the craft, something he hadn’t felt in… decades. Very few in Asgard appreciated the more complicated applications of seiðr and as his duties as prince had grown he’d had less and less time to visit Alfheim for scholarly pursuits.

He supposed the last time he’d even approached such a topic was with Valkyrie when she’d caught him practicing Ice Magic, and that had been more a volley of insults than a discussion.

Juri pursed her lips and challenged him with, “well, if you’re not too tired...”

“Hah. Very well.” Loki thought a moment, then conjured a miniature version of Thor. The little doppelganger stood in the center of Loki’s palm, unmoving. “Creating the simile is the first step, of course, something you’ve already done. But at this point it is nothing more than a puppet, dancing to your thoughts.”

He bid the puppet to dance a halting jig, something ungainly and ridiculous. It was meant to make the girl laugh, but she watched the doll move with a studied intensity as if she could figure out the how by mere observation. Loki was a bit disappointed, but didn’t let on as he continued.

“At this stage you are giving the simulacrum instructions for each footstep, each wave of the arm, for each bouncing curl of hair. It’s exhausting. And as soon as you lose focus it will fall lifeless once more.” He let the puppet go still again.

“So, you build a library of routines from which to draw. A walk, for example.” Little Thor began to walk in place, his feet sliding soundlessly across Loki’s palm. “Or a run.” Thor began to run, arms pumping and nostrils flaring with breath. “I spent a good deal of time perfecting these. Thor is a brute of a man and he carries his arrogance like a mantel. I couldn’t use the walk of your average peasant or noble for his movements, they needed to be tailored to his personality and build. Otherwise...”

The little Thor began to skip with the dainty grace of a child. This got a quick huff of amusement from the girl.

“How do you build a library? You aren’t actually writing anything down, are you?”

“No, no. Once you’ve got something you like you… hm, imprint it into the universe. You build a storage of thoughts in the consciousness of reality from which you are then able to draw. It is, likewise, how you would cut down the time to cast a complicated spell of summoning or healing. Once you’ve gone through the motions of a spell in its entirety, you may set reality itself the task of doing the grunt work in future. You must have done something similar yourself, surely. Do you find your shifting easier the second time you take on a new form? Or do you struggle with every session?”

“No, it gets easier. But that’s because I know what it feels like the second time.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. _Reality_ knows what it feels like the second time, and so it does not fight you when you shift. And if you let it, it can even help you along.”

The girl studied her tan hands with wonder, then broke her gaze to ask another question. “But what about talking? I can’t get mine to talk. And how do you make them know what to say and when to say it? Or even when they should walk as opposed to run?”

“Noise is simple. It’s a different spell, though, acting on air instead of light. So making a talking simulacrum requires at least two seiðr-workings. There are other workings you need as well if you wish for your simulacrum to _process_ sound and sight. With those in place, you now need to build a latticework of responses and routines for it to follow.”

Loki closed his fist, the little Thor popping in a flash of green. He then twisted his hand with a flick, conjuring a simulacrum he hadn’t used in many years. It was a bit fuzzy about the edges, but with a little concentration the form came into focus. It stood with its weight on one foot and its hands folded behind its back, a slight smirk upon its face.

“Who is that?” The girl asked.

“That’s me, when I was bit younger than you. It’s one of the first simulacrums I made. I used it to trick my brother into thinking I was in my room or watching at the practice grounds when in fact I had wandered off to do one thing or another. Go ahead, ask it something.”

“Uhm,” the girl sat up straighter as she addressed the illusion. “Hello.”

“Hello,” it replied, shifting its weight to the other leg.

“I’m Juri. What’s your name?”

“I’m Loki. Who else would I be?”

The girl laughed, glancing back at the real Loki.

“Try asking it something harder,” Loki suggested. “Something unexpected or silly.”

“Hmm. What is it like to fly?”

The simulacrum frowned. “I really don’t have time for this.”

Juri looked to Loki again, but he gestured her to try another.

“How many years are in a day?”

“Haven’t you somewhere to be?”

“Why are mushrooms so mean?”

“I really don’t have time for this.”

The girl hummed, then asked again, “what is your name?”

“I’m Loki. Who else would I be?” The simulacrum shifted its weight, a slight smirk upon its face.

“So it deflects your question if it doesn’t have a response tailored to what you asked,” she guessed.

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “Thor eventually figured that out and took to asking me ridiculous things to test whether I was me or an illusion. I took to answering his nonsense as if I _were_ my doppelganger and so he took to throwing things at my head. I got rather good at dodging after that.” He smiled at the memory. “As time went on, I built more complex response systems. I can also pilot them from a distance, if I so choose.”

“That’s… so much work.”

“Indeed!” Loki banished his child-self. “Proper seiðrwork requires a great deal of preparation. You can’t run into a situation and simply flail about in the hopes that things will resolve themselves.” _Thor’s preferred method of problem solving._ “You must build your tools for later use. And if you haven’t the right tool for the job, things get… interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

“Well…” Loki thought back to one of his adventures in Nidafellr. “There was a time I had to chase off a group of Dwarves. I sent the simulacrum of great bear after them with the instruction to chase them anywhere they may run. It turned out they had a boat, however. Now, I had prepared instructions on how the simulacrum should interact with water in the case of a puddle or a stream. It should wade through it. But I’d never bothered to create a swimming routine.”

“So, what happened?”

Loki chuckled. “It waded into the water! Disappeared under the surface entirely. The Dwarves were confused but thought themselves safe. That is, until the bear climbed up one of their oars and into their boat! They jumped into the pond screaming but quickly realized something was off when the bear slipped under the water again and started roaring at them from the lake bed.”

The girl laughed. “What? Just standing in the mud staring up at them?”

“Swatting at their pumping feet!”

She laughed again but it turned into a yawn midway through.

Loki hummed. “It is getting rather late, isn’t it? Do you think you can stand?”

She nodded, rising to her feet with the help of the wall. They made their way back to the girl’s quarters at a leisurely pace, Loki answering her questions on the specifics of simulacrum synthesis. They paused for some time just outside the bay’s doors, Juri still too full of questions even as her words slurred with exhaustion, Loki enjoying the talk despite his better judgment. But eventually he called a halt to the conversation. She’d need to rest if she planned to be of any use tomorrow.

“But what about vocal resonance in different mediums? How do you account for thin air or if the simulacrum is underwater?”

“Tomorrow. For now, bed.”

“All right. Fine.” She bent to grab the hem of her dress, ready to disrobe and change back, but paused. “Will you really answer tomorrow? You’re not just trying to shut me up?”

“If I wanted you to stop talking I’d have no qualms commanding you to do so.”

Her face twisted in irritation at his tone, but she didn’t act on it. Instead, she thought through his words, her expression turning to cautious hope. “So you will answer tomorrow?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He smirked as she wavered between indignation and relief. “Now go to sleep.”

“All right,” she sighed. Loki turned to leave as she began to undress, just catching her light, “good night, Prince Loki.”


	8. In which Loki puts fears at ease

It had been another successful night. The girl was getting better and better at controlling the flow of the Tesseract and Loki himself was getting quicker at instigating the cell fission. If all went well, he might try upping their nightly quota to two cells per session.

She was more talented than he had expected.

_(And not entirely unbearable.)_

As his bedroom door slid shut, Loki stretched his arms behind his back, fingers interlocked. His spine gave a satisfying crack as the fey lights woke slowly above his head. It was late, the corridors to his quarters had been all but empty, only the little lights along the baseboards illuminating the way.

He stripped to his britches and let his form change, stretching and growing cold. Something inside him relaxed as he did so, like a sigh, and he found himself slumping with relief. It was so frustrating, this constant tension within his flesh, within his core, that now came from maintaining his Ás form. He knew, in time, he’d be able to stay shifted near indefinitely. But that wasn’t helpful now. Though… though, if he were honest with himself…

_If he were honest, his skin had always been too tight._

Loki gathered up his garments, hanging them in the slim closet built into the wall. His reflection flashed from the mirror upon the inner door, blue like a late dusk sky, ridged like valley rivers seen from a mountain overlook. He sighed and let his gaze flick up.

Red, like blood.

Or…

Or, perhaps, like garnet.

_Had Frigg ever seen him like this? What words would she have used?_

Alexandrite. She’d always said his eyes were like that of alexandrite.

Hah. Fitting.

How would the Jötnar describe him?

_Short._

Of course. But otherwise? He was a handsome man, he knew. He’d used his looks to his advantage as much as he did his words and charm.

But as a Jötunn?

What did they hold to be desirable?

_Scarred and shaped like a brick, most likely._

_Maybe._

He closed the closet, padding over to his bedding, the fey lights swirling about his horns as he walked.

The girl wasn’t ugly. Not pretty, certainly, and as a woman she was decidedly lacking in feminine qualities. But if she were male, then she would be well on her way to becoming a handsome young man. The mother could be handsome, too, in a grizzled, war veteran sort of way.

Was that it? The Jötnar simply prided flat chests and squared jaws so highly that even their women became such?

_(It could explain some of his… proclivities.)_

Loki slid to the ground with a groan, laying back, head resting on his right arm as he watched the fey lights drift along the ceiling. He raised his left hand towards the lights and studied the way they played across his skin. The yellowed glow rimmed the blue of his fingers like the dawn sun pushing against the night sky.

Were there others like him? Small and wily? Perhaps it was a trait of seiðrmasters, perhaps Juri would also stay shorter than her brethren.

No, she was young and already taller than Loki himself.

So not short, but she was wily, and smart. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was too. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was the last seiðrmaster she’d had any significant contact with. All alone in a world of warmongers.

Even on Asgard Loki had never been the only one, had always had his mother to speak with, to practice with. Had always had the ladies of the court, even if their interests only lay with cosmetology and love potions. It had been something.

What did Juri have? A gruff, ice-obsessed mother.

How lonely.

He let his hand drop, closed his eyes.

Neither he nor Juri should have been born of that realm. And if there were two such as them, then surely there were others, others who deserved to be uplifted. Perhaps when he got to Midgard…

Well, that was a ways off.

 

~~~

 

_“Hilda had another nightmare last night.”_

_“About the Giants?”_

_“Yes. I don’t know what to do. She’s terrified they’ll crawl out of the vents and gobble her up as she sleeps.”_

_“Haha! I hardly think they’d fit!”_

_“Yes, I’ve told her as much. But Bartlet told her that story about Thjazi turning into a bird. She’s convinced they’ll shift to the form of a snake and creep throughout the ship.”_

_“Tell her the Jötunn seiðrmasters were all killed in the war.”_

_“I have, but I’ll try again. I do not think it will help.”_

 

~~~

 

The meeting was coming to an end and Loki hadn’t spoken once throughout. Thor had been side-eying him for the last half hour, waiting for Loki to speak on his own, but he was far too busy filing his nails to take notice.

Finally Thor broke.

“Loki, have you any news on our missing fuel?”

“Oh, hm?” Loki blinked, glancing up from his buffed nails, keeping his good humor hidden behind practiced disinterest.

“The fuel cells, Loki. Have you found them.”

“Oh! Yes.” He returned to his filing.

“... And where might they be?”

“Hm? Oh, would you like them now?”

Thor sighed, exhaustion and exasperation drawing his face after a long day running about the ship. But Thor knew the fastest way to get this done was to play along, as much as the game vexed him. “Yes, I would like them now.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

By the tensing of Thor’s jaw, Loki suspected his look of honest perplexity was moments away from earning him a fist to the face, but the sorcerer waved a perfectly manicured hand and, with a small flash, several cells appeared on the conference table. Their blue glow brightened the room, overtaking the dull overheads. In addition to recharging them, Loki had enacted a small spell of transchronofication to change the cell’s labels to a false brand: Ignoriant Super Cells.

He caught sight of Valkyrie out of the corner of his eye. She looked amused by his antics, but it was subtle. Neither of them had spoken more than a few words to the other since their little spat nearly four weeks back.

“Is that all?” Lulu asked, stealing away Thor’s pleased look. “That’ll hardly last us a week.”

Loki sighed, pouring all of his irritation into a truly fantastic eye roll. “No, that isn’t _all._ But the cells require activation. It’s a tiresome process, though I’ve been developing a method to activate them with more efficiency. Regardless, you’ll be getting them faster than we use them, so don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”

Juri had been getting a better hold of the Tesseract’s power and, as of two nights ago, they’d managed to increase their production to two cells per session. Loki suspected she’d be able to handle three soon.

The Sakaaran snapped her jaws, gills flaring. She was growing to dislike Loki with an increasingly personal passion, but if she didn’t wish for a tongue lashing then she should learn to keep her toothy little mouth shut.

“Brother, be nice,” Thor admonished, but he did so with no heat. “And you’ve done well. When can we expect more?”

Loki let himself preen a little as he answered. “I’ll have another batch ready for our next meeting.”

“Excellent! Good work, Loki. Now,” Thor clapped his hands as he rose, “if that is all...”

“One more thing, your highness,” Kvathi spoke, flicking through files on his tablet. “I’ve a number of citizens who express concern about the Frost Giants in our hold.”

Thor, so bright and excited to leave just moments before, sank back into his seat with a barely repressed groan.

“We’ve been over this Kvathi. Until the Jötnar give us reason, we will not disturb them.”

“I understand, but their very presence is disturbing the peace. I’ve a list of six hundred and fifty eight men and women who have lodged complaint against them. That’s nearly a quarter of the ship’s population.”

“If you only count Asgardians,” Lulu muttered. Kvathi pointedly ignored her.

“A quarter of the populace is uncomfortable having the Jötnar so near. I think it unwise to ignore their fears.”

Valkyrie spoke up from across the table, “if you need someone to field complaints, I’d be happy to lend a hand.” She raised a fist, shaking it threateningly.

“You can’t punch your way out of civil unrest,” Kvathi harrumphed, shuffling in his seat.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’d be happy to try.”

“Come now, Brunnhilde,” Loki raised his hand in a plea for calm. Valkyrie sent him a glare. “Our good friend here is right. The citizens are afraid. Violence will hardly allay them of their fears.”

If this had been a week ago, Loki would have thrown his lot in with the petty noble. But things had changed, the Jötunn girl was instrumental to Loki’s plans and he wasn’t about to lose such a useful tool.

_(And if he occasionally enjoyed her enthusiasm for the craft, well, he wasn’t above admitting it. To himself, at least.)_

“And what would you suggest?” Thor held himself with all the energy of wet bread, slumping against a fist.

“I’ll speak to our people. Tonight, over dinner.”

“You will?” Thor’s spark of hope was brief. “You aren’t planning a lynch mob, are you?”

“I’m hurt, Thor, truly.” He made no attempt to appear honest as he said that. They both knew Loki was plenty happy to start riots when the mood struck. “No, it would do none of us good to bring bloodshed to our halls. Trust me, I’ll handle it.”

 

~~~

 

Loki lead the meal hall in a series of merry drinking songs throughout dinner, drumming up enough good cheer that the people nearly forgot their beer was mostly water. By the time dinner was coming to a close the hall was loud with laughter, wrestling, and good natured jeers.

Loki made his way to the head of the room, climbing atop the raised platform Thor sometimes used for announcements. He lifted his hands and waited as the people took notice, shushing their companions into silence. Thor watched from the sidelines, apprehension in the tightness of his shoulders. Loki sent him a little wave.

“My friends!” Loki’s voice carried through the hall, bright and lively. “How are we on this fine evening?”

The crowd cheered, raising mugs to the ceiling.

“I’m glad to hear it! And I hope the following doesn’t damper the mood too greatly, but it has been brought to my attention that some have a few complaints about our downstairs neighbors. The Jötnar,” grumbling filled the hall and Loki waited a beat for it to calm, “are making some of you… uncomfortable. An understandable reaction, to be sure. Frost Giants are dangerous, unpredictable, and untrustworthy. And I should know.” Loki placed a hand upon his chest, flashing a guilty little self deprecating smirk. The audience chuckled, well versed in Loki’s mischief.

“But our King has made his ruling, offering our hospitality to these,” Loki pretended to search for a polite word, “ _exotic_ guests. And Asgard is as good as her word. We can hardly ask for honor from our guests that we ourselves are unwilling to give.”

The crowd didn’t look happy at this. It was the same argument Thor had made some weeks back, and it would work for a time. Honor was the currency of Asgard, no one would move to tarnish that golden facade. No, they needed to wait for a convenient excuse to blame the other party before breaking any promises. _(Loki’s ability to trick others into breaking a pact was one of the reasons so many nobles despised him, and why the country folk who heard of his exploits against the stuffed shirts adored him.)_

Loki had been drumming up the citizens’ desire for retribution since the Jötnar were promised safe passage, knowing that when the opportunity presented itself he’d be loaded as a hero, enacting revenge for some petty slight. This tension could still be useful to keep the Jötnar in line, but it was now important to keep it from getting out of hand. He’d be truly screwed if some thick-skulled want-to-be hero decided to go monster slaying in the cargo bays.

“Now, I know such plays on your honor do little to lessen your concern for your wives and children. I do not pretend that these beings are not dangerous. But I ask you to trust in your King that they are well contained.” A lie. But the youth wouldn’t be eating any babies even if she did decide to go for another stroll in the upper decks. “The Jötnar may be savages, but they are not without reason. They know full well that any move against us will mean their heads and, like any animal, their chief instinct _is_ the preservation of their own lives. And I tell you this with confidence, having had the… hm, _pleasure_ of speaking with them, they are far more afraid of us than we are of them.”

Some of the younger members of the audience seemed unsure of this.

“It’s true! They know the might of Asgard. They know the ferocity of our warriors. “

_Play on their pride._

“The strength of our King.”

_Play on their loyalty._

“The unity of our people.”

_Our people. Yours and mine._

“Even a bear doesn’t hunt a wolf pack.”

An old, grizzled man spoke up, scars from battles past pulling at the corners of his lips. “This would be more assuring were it not coming from the mouth of a Jötunn himself.”

Thor barked from the sidelines, “watch your tongue!” but Loki waved his brother’s ire aside. He’d been expecting this.

“No, no. I understand your concerns. Ulof, isn’t it?”

The old man growled confirmation.

“I _am_ Jötunn by birth, it is true. And though I have worked my whole life to overcome my origins, it is something I cannot change.” He paused here, a look of barely contained sorrow for the romantics in the audience. _(And if that expression was easier to conjure than others, he’d never say.)_ “But in this my blood is a boon. The Jötnar below have an innate distrust of Asgard. But they trust me easily enough, and will do as I ask for the love of something they call a ‘blood bond.’” Loki rolled his eyes at the term he’d just coined, gaining some huffs of laughter from those eager to look down on the Jötnar’s ignorant traditions.

“I daresay, they seem to view me as some sort of savior.” _Show them you are instrumental._ “They’ve been rather eager to get into my good graces, in fact. The younger one in particular has become quite taken with me, in just the few times we’ve met. Pesters me with all sorts of questions about Asgard’s magics and _strange_ customs. Customs like footwear.”

More laughter.

“It’s sad, in truth. The poor thing was raised in a barren wasteland. Such a hard life leaves little time to learn civility. Honestly, I think the two of them are loath to cause trouble if for no other reason than the cargo bays are the cushiest living quarters they’ve ever inhabited.”

Now, some of the more kind hearted were whispering words of pity. Loki figured this was a good place to wrap it up.

“Well, I believe I’ve interrupted your evening long enough. And I hope my words have lessened some of your more pressing concerns. If not, I’m sure Valkyrie Brunnhilde would be happy to assist.”

She _had_ offered, after all.

Loki quickly slipped out of the meal hall, leaving the crowd to chew through his words in his absence. Thor followed him out, the stiffness of his posture loosened now that no riot loomed on the horizon.

“Thank you,” Thor said, the corridors’ warm light lessening the bruised bags beneath his good eye. “Though I wonder at some of your claims.”

“And which would those be?”

“Your friendship with the Jötnar. I seem to recall your bloodthirst was quite strong but last week.”

“I _am_ a fickle thing, you know.”

“That you are.” Thor shook his head with a found smile.

“What the fuck was that?” Valkyrie announced her presence with her usual grace.

“A pleasure as always, Val,” Loki greeted her with a grin.

“Ya-huh. You spent that whole little speech of yours painting them like they’re slobbering animals you’ve trained to eat from your hand.”

“A more-or-less accurate description.”

“What is wrong with you?! Their _your_ people!”

Loki hissed. “They’re _not_ my people.”

“Are you hearing this?” Valkyrie turned to Thor, waving a hand at Loki’s glower.

Thor crossed his arms. “Loki may be Jötunn by blood, but he is Às in mind and deed.”

“Yeah, that’s the bloody problem!”

“Have care how you speak,” Thor growled. “He is my brother and your prince.”

“Are you-- ugh!” She threw up her hands. “Is getting your heads caught in your asses a family trait? This attitude is exactly the reason every one of Asgard’s allies have turned on us now that you don’t have the firepower to backup your hegemony. Are you going to pull this bullshit when we land on Midgard? How long before the mortals get fed up with your golden ass and tell you to fuck off back to space? Hm?”

“We defended Midgard from Jötunn invasion. I doubt they’d take umbrage with a few crass words against their ancient enemies.”

“I’m not just talking about the Jötnar!” Valkyrie shouted. “I’m talking about Asgard treating everyone like pawns! I’m talking about your family looking down your noses at everyone like they belong beneath your boot! I left Asgard because I was tired of singing the praises of Odin as he stepped on my neck. You don’t have an army to force your will on the realms anymore. You don’t get to _demand_ respect anymore. And if you don’t stop wanking over your own glory then I’ll be the first to join the inevitable rebellion.” She spat on the floor, “you cunts,” and stormed off.

The brothers watched her go.

“Well,” Loki said. “That was dramatic.”

 

~~~

 

Brunnhilde kicked the door open (which required positioning herself in the ajar doorway and kicking the sliding door edge-on) and stormed into the bay. Hulk slowly rolled to a sitting position on his trash-pile bed, stretching a meaty arm above his head with a tired groan.

“Val mad.”

“Yeah, I’m mad!”

“Why mad?”

“Because the two idiots running this ship are fucking idiots!”

Muthrun sighed from her corner, flipping through a Sakaaran fashion catalogue. The magazine was too small for the Giant to hold comfortably, and Muthrun had complained about the contents on more than one occasion, but there was very little to do in the bowels of the ship.

“What did they do?” Juri asked. She was weaving plastic package wrapping into complicated bracelets. Tomorrow she’d unwrap them and do it again.

“Just the same old ‘Asgard is great and everyone else is garbage’ bullshit.”

“Are you not of Asgard?” Muthrun asked, daintily turning a glossy page.

“Yeah, was. ‘Till I got tired of all that gold gilded shit!” She kicked an iron pipe, one Hulk used as a backscratch, sending it clattering across the hold’s floor.

“Shit,” Hulk chuckled.

Brunnhilde threw herself onto Hulk’s trash pile. “It’s just the same old crap spewing out of new mouths. They run around the realms tooting their own horns and paving the way with the blood of idiots stupid enough to throw their lives away for the King’s ego.”

“Wait, what’s happened?” Juri asked. The slight crease in her brow was the Jötunn equivalent of wide-eyed panic. “Are you going to war?”

“No, I just--” Brunnhilde sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. “I was hoping things would be different. I thought maybe Thor had learned something after Hela came back and royally screwed over Asgard. I thought maybe that’d teach him Asgard’s not so high and mighty. And Loki! Fuck! He’s just an ouroboros of stupid.”

“Hm.” The low grunt was Muthrun’s way of agreeing with Brunnhilde's words without directly saying so. Though Brunnhilde had done her best to show the older Jötunn she was an ally, she still refused to speak with any candor in Brunnhilde's presence.

“He’s not stupid,” Juri said. When the room raised a collective brow, she elaborated. “Well, from what you’ve told us, he’s a master of seiðr. You can’t be stupid and do all the things you’ve said he’s done.”

“There’s different kinds of stupid,” Brunnhilde said. She tore a chunk of cardboard out of Hulk’s bed, setting about to shredding it piece by piece. “I ever tell you about the first time I saw him as a Jötunn? He didn’t even know how to make ice armor. The guy nearly gave himself heatstroke trying to show off. That was, like, two months ago.”

“He didn’t--?” Juri snorted. “Really? How could he not know?”

Brunnhilde shook her head with a laugh, but then gave the question some consideration. “You know he’s adopted, right? Raised by Odin? Apparently no one _told_ him he was adopted. Only found out by accident.”

“How could he not know he was adopted?” Juri seemed to be considering the possibility that Loki was, indeed, stupid.

“Something Odin did to his magic,” Brunnhilde said. “It kept him permanently shifted into Às form.”

Muthrun made a choking noise, nearly tearing the magazine in two. “That is disgus--” she cut herself off before she could insult Asgard’s former king. But Brunnhilde had no such reservations.

“Real shitty. Yeah.”

“Wouldn’t that hurt? Being stuck in a foreign form for centuries?” Juri asked.

Brunnhilde shrugged. He’d never mentioned any pain, not until he’d finally shifted back and the years caught up with him.

“That’s… All of that’s just so awful. I couldn’t imagine never knowing my dame.” Juri looked to her mother, lips tugging into a frown. “Or being forced into another form. It’s no wonder he’s…” she trailed off, noticing her mother’s warning look.

Brunnhilde again took up the task of insulting the royal family. “Completely mental? Yeah, I guess. To be fair, Odin managed to screw up his Às kids, too.”

“Still…”

“Look, I wouldn’t feel too bad for him. He just gave a speech that boiled down to: ‘don’t be afraid of the Jötnar in the hold, they’re too stupid to be a threat.”

Muthrun’s magazine crackled as it froze over.

“I… sorry.” Brunnhilde said. “I shouldn’t have come down here to rant at you guys. That’s not fair.”

“No,” Muthrun rumbled, placing her ruined magazine on a crate beside her. “It is good to know where we stand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexandrite is a stone that appears green most of the time but takes on a red hue under certain lights. I was siked when I learned that!


	9. In which parentage is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I watched Infinity War.  
> Ouch.  
> Anyway, here's chapter 9!

“You are awfully quiet this evening.”

They’d finished recharging the first cell and were taking a short breather before starting on the second. Juri had said very little on their way to the engine room, only brief answers met Loki’s attempts at small talk. Apparently her quarters, meals, and mother were all ‘fine.’

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Are you ill?”

She shook her head.

“Are you certain? Yesterday I’d have sworn you’d pass out rather than take a breath between words. Now I can barely pry a sentence from between your teeth.”

“Sentence.”

Loki groaned. “Oh that was terrible, I regret all my efforts.”

He caught the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips, but she quickly swallowed it down.

“Is it that time of the month?” He asked with a smirk, a question guaranteed to get a reaction. Usually a violent one, but you couldn’t ignore the man you were punching.

“What? What time?”

_Oh, ehh…_

Either Jötnar didn’t suffer from that particular affliction or else the girl was rather younger than he’d thought.

“Ehm, perhaps that is better answered by your mother.”

He could see the curiosity bubbling below the surface, and the frustration that he would withhold information from her, but with a mighty effort the girl kept herself from asking further.

A change of subjects, perhaps.

“How has your training been?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

No response.

“Ah, I shouldn’t be surprised. It _is_ advanced magic, after all. You shouldn’t feel any shame. It’s not uncommon for a person of average abilities to struggle with multi-field illusionary craft.”

“I’m not struggling!”

“Oh? Your sudden taciturnity has me wondering if you aren’t a tad displeased with your progress.”

It was pretty clear that wasn’t the issue. For some reason, the girl was upset with Loki specifically. She had been sending him withering pouts all evening.

“My progress is fine.”

It was like talking to a petulant wall.

“No questions then? About relativistic mindscapes or visual tracking?”

They hadn’t had time to delve into those subjects yesterday. Loki would deny it if the girl ever asked, but he’d rather been looking forward to the lecture. He’d even stumbled across a couple ideas in the night that he wanted to talk through with an eager, if ignorant, partner.

“Why bother asking? I’m too stupid to understand the answer, aren’t I?”

Loki mentally replayed his most recent interactions with the girl. Nothing he’d said had been particularly insulting, certainly no more than usual.

Unless…

“What nonsense has Brunnhilde been spouting now?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just that you think my dame and I are mindless beasts that’ll do tricks for a scratchy pile of trash to sleep on.”

To be fair, that was exactly what their arrangement was, but Loki didn’t think the girl would appreciate him saying so.

He sighed, letting his shoulders slump in defeat.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yes, well, I did.”

“And I am sorry.” Loki placed a hand upon his heart, lowering his eyes to the floor. “My words were unkind but they were necessary.”

“Necessary?!” Her voice squeaked with teenage outrage.

“Let me explain, please.”

She crossed her arms and waited.

“The Æsir are growing restless. Six months packed in a rickety barge with months still to go, their boisterous nature has begun to sour. Last week a group of men punched a wall down because their sleeping quarters were _cramped.”_

That was true. The knuckleheads had burst a water pipe in the process, flooding both their floor and the room below and knocking out the water to the showers above. Lulu had nearly had a conniption.

“The people are bored, antsy, and angry. They’ve lost their homes, their loved ones, and their freedom. The person to blame for all their woes is long gone, floating in the rubble of our ruined world. And so they turn their ire on the next best thing.”

He locked his eyes with hers. “You.”

The girl hadn’t uncrossed her arms, but they had grown looser.

“But, why? We haven’t done anything.”

“Anger and fear are rarely driven by logic. They need someone to hate and the Jötnar have proven themselves worthy enemies. Strong, towering, and with the deathly cold of winter beneath their skin, the Jötnar are monsters.” At the flicker of outrage on the girl’s face Loki amended, “in the minds of the Æsir, at least.”

“So you-- What? You called us stupid so they wouldn’t want to kill us?”

Loki shrugged. “I downplayed the threat you pose.”

“What threat? I went for a couple walks on their floors, that’s all. And they don’t even know about that! As far as they know, my Oma and I have just been sitting staring at the wall for the past month.”

“Plotting all sorts of awful things, I’m sure.”

Juri’s mouth dropped open but the noises that came out couldn’t rightly be called words.

“I know, I know,” Loki assured her. “But what could I say? They are not judging you with facts and so I cannot fight it with such. No, my only choice was to paint you as happy little pets content to sleep the days away in the hold. I daresay, I even managed to drum up a little pity in some, describing the hardships that had you fleeing your home.”

“You mean, like the hardships that came about when Asgard lit our atmosphere on fire?”

Loki paused. He’d actually meant Jötunheim’s climate in general, but sure, the Bifrost hadn’t helped. He wouldn’t mention who’d ordered that strike.

“Yes. You understand, the average citizen knows very little about your plight. They know only that we went to war with a dangerous enemy. They do not know of your farms and forests and children.”

“So you told them we’re too stupid and grateful to cause any trouble.”

“More or less.”

Juri looked like she was chewing on her tongue, hunching and glaring at the floor.

“How do you stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“Them!” She flung an arm out to encompass the floors above. “Asgard! How can you stand having to play at being their tame little pet?”

Loki could feel his eye begin to twitch and surreptitiously cast an illusion to mask it.

“I’m their prince.”

“But you’re Jötunn! I was only up there for a couple days and I could almost _taste_ how much they hate us.”

_Not us. Not--_

“I’m not Jötunn in their eyes. I’m not-- they--”

_“Three Jötnar.” Valkyrie wiggled three fingers in the air._

_“what do you really look like? Is it scary?_

_“--coming from the mouth of a Jötunn himself.”_

_“Your true nature. Your Jötunn nature.”_

Loki took a breath. “It’s different.”

The girl shook her head, arms wrapped about her middle.

Loki was growing tired of her sulking. “What?”

“It sounds so lonely.”

Lonely?

What did she know? What did anyone know? Lonely?

He was _angry!_ He was angry at the brat’s presumption. He was pissed at Thor’s attempts to psychoanalyze him. He wanted to punch Valkyrie’s haughty face and he wanted to resurrect Odin for the express purpose of punching him in the face! He’d been surrounded by friends and family and subjects and then _Odin took them from him!_

“Do you miss them?” Juri asked, voice soft. “You’re real parents?”

“My--? I am _Odinson!_ I am Friggjarson. The King and Queen of Asgard are my parents and none other!” He said it with more conviction than he felt. Though he would honor Frigg as his mother without hesitation, Odin still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Though not as bitter as Laufey.

The girl’s brow crinkled, dubious.

_Insolent whelp._

“If we’re quite done.” He surged to his feet and snapped his fingers, the ritual mat disappearing with a flick, then swept to the tinny stairwell.

The girl followed, hesitant at first, then steps growing steadier as they went. He thought, maybe, she was smart enough to hold her tongue but as they entered the cool halls she spoke.

“Why do you hate them so much?”

_Did she want a list? They’d be here all night._

“Well, to start, the Jötunn savages that beget me left me to die of exposure shortly after I was born. Or-- would I have frozen? Perhaps I’d have starved, slowly, crying into the wind as I withered.”

“They left you?” she gasped.

“On an alter. Perhaps I was meant as a sacrifice. Jötunheim _was_ desperate at the time.” They reached the top of the stairs.

“No!” She cried. “We would never do that! That’s horrible.”

He pounded the unlock code into the door’s control panel, then forced the door wide when it didn’t slide open fast enough.

“Then perhaps they simply didn’t want a sickly little runt weighing them down. Who knows? I never had the opportunity to ask.”

He hated how much relief the cool hall air brought. He shouldn’t wilt so in the Engine room’s heat.

“But-- I don’t--” she stumbled over her words. “Why would anyone ever do that? I mean, so what if you’re small? Lots of people your age are small. I have a cousin like you, even.”

“You… do?” He paused in his step, briefly. It had not occurred to him that there were others like himself. It couldn’t be common. Some sort of birth defect? A recessive trait?

“Zher dame was stationed on Midgard when the fighting broke out. The Æsir poisoned the food stores so they had to ration everything. My cousin was born small because of it. You were born about then, weren’t you? Maybe the same thing happened to your dame.”

“Perhaps.” So, his stunted stature could be traced back to the war. Another thing he could thank Odin for.

“Do you know who zhe was? Your dame?”

Loki shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was making his throat tight. Shame, maybe? Or loss? He felt cheated, somehow.

“Maybe we could figure it out. We might even be able to find zher someday!”

“What? Why?”

“You could ask zher what happened! What if zhe lost you? Or what if Odin took you from zher? Or what if zhe put you on the altar to bless you and then the Æsir attacked? If we found zher or zher family then you could know the truth!”

He rather doubted she’d want to meet him. He’d killed her husband, after all. Lover? Loki had never heard of a Jötunn Queen.

He might have killed her. If she was in the capital when he opened the Bifrost, it was possible. Probably, even.

Had he killed her?

“You-- Your dame spoke of the political climate on Jötunheim when we first met. She said something about a king…”

“King Helblindi?”

“Yes.”

“What about zher?”

 _Zher?_ Was Helblindi a woman?

“Is, um— She? Is she Laufey’s daughter?”

“Laufey’s child, yes.”

So, Loki had a sister. Another one. Another secret sister— blast it all, his family was absurdly convoluted.

“So, then— So was Helblindi in the capitol when Asgard fired upon it? Were there… many survivors?”

“Um,” Juri thought for a moment, staring at her bare feet slapping against the floor. “I suppose zhe may have been. I’m not certain. I know many died in the attack, but the weapon only destroyed a part of the city. I think the palace was spared. I’m not sure, I haven’t visited the capital in a few decades.”

Loki nodded, eyes staring ahead.

_So she might have survived._

“Oh. Oh!” Juri exclaimed, realization jolting through her frame. “Because your dame is Ymir Clan, right? Do you think zhe’s a palace denizen?”

"Ymir Clan?”

“You’re clan-lines,” she said, dragging her finger across her cheeks and chin in imitation of the raised lines of Loki’s Jötunn form. “Your dame was Ymir clan. They’re nobles. You really didn’t know?”

“Asgard’s teachings on Jötunheim traditions is… cursory.”

In fact, he’d be hard pressed to name more than three cities in the whole realm. Ymir, though, that was a name everyone knew. The god supreme of Jötunheim, he was said to have given birth to their entire world. Loki seemed to recall something about the royal line…

There was a creeping feeling prickling the back of Loki’s neck.

“Laufey is of the house Ymir, is he not?”

“Was,” she corrected, sullen.

Norns. If his ‘dame’ was Ymir Clan along with Laufey… How many Jötnar were in a single clan? Were they all related? Was he the inbred whelp of perverted cousins? Perhaps poor nutrition wasn’t to blame for his stature. He felt sick.

“You’ve never met your real family, then?”

“Not my family,” Loki mumbled. The back of his skull felt hot. Why wouldn’t the child stop talking?

“Did you ever try to find them?”

He growled.

“But what if they’re looking for you?” She sped her pace to better walk abreast with him, voice earnest. “If my dame lost me zhe’d tear the world apart to find me! My Oppa, too. Yours must miss you!”

“I killed my sire.”

The girl choked.

“He was a threat. I neutralized that threat. I did it for my true father. For Odin.”

“You-- You killed your sire for that monster?”

Loki whirled on the girl and she stumbled to a stop. “Laufey was the monster! He killed thousands of Æsir and thousands of mortals and then he LEFT ME TO DIE!”

“You killed... You--you,” She tripped over her words and shrank back from Loki’s bared teeth, his wide eyes. “How could you? Why?”

“Because I am a son of Odin, price of Asgard. It was my duty to slay that vile beast. As he knelt above the Allfather’s sleeping frame, dagger poised to bleed, I fired upon him. I killed my sire in defense of my father and the only realm I’ve ever called home.”

“But that doesn’t even make sense! Laufey can’t be your sire!”

He’d thought much the same. Wished for it to be different.

Worthless wishes.

“Why not?” He asked, voice low and rough.

“Because your sire was Aldir Clan!” She traced a half circle on her brow, then traced straight lines on her cheeks and chin again. “Your damelines are Ymir Clan. Laufey can’t be your sire.”

She blinked, something dawning on her face. “Laufey was your dame. You killed your own dame.”

His dame? That was-- The thought was disgusting! Revolting! Absurd. The brat was playing with him.

“Laufey was a man.”

She looked at him, brow creased. “Laufey was Jötunn.”

“A Jötunn man.”

“No…” she spoke slowly, as if to a dullard. “Zhe was Jötunn. We are not man or woman. We are whole beings.”

Loki felt as if the floor was tilting beneath his feet.

“We can be dame or sire. We are not limited like Æsir.”

Loki sank to the floor.

“You don’t know this? How can you not know this?”

His face felt hot, the back of his throat burned.

“Spirits,” Juri whispered. “You didn’t. And you killed zher.”

She needed to go. She needed to leave. Alone. He had to be _alone._

“I have dismissed your doppelganger.” His voice barely slid passed his lips. “I suggest you run home, now.”

“What?!”

Loki didn’t respond, wrapping his arms about himself as he drew his knees close.

“You--!” She bounced on her feet, torn between berating him and getting back before her mother discovered her missing. “You bastard! What is _wrong_ with you?!”

And with that she left, her dirty dress flapping about her knees as she ran.

_What was wrong with him?_

_Everything._

 

~~~

 

He waited until the door slid closed before he screamed. The walls were warded, the people passing by outside wouldn’t hear a thing as Loki raged within. He brought a foot down on the shelf he used as desk, once, twice, three times until it splintered into slivers of plastic and twisted metal. He shredded his mattress, he ripped the lights from the walls and the closet door from its hinges. He slammed the door against the ground and the attached mirror shattered like ice, shards scattering throughout his cramped quarters until his snarling vissage stared back at him from a thousand different angles.

He raged at the little mocking pictures, pulling fire into his hands, throwing fistfuls of plasma until the glass was blackened and melted.

His mother? _His mother?_ That hulking, twisted, wrinkled _troll_ was his fucking _mother!?_

He roared, digging his nails into his face and gauging bloody trails to his chin as he fell to his knees.

Bad enough to be the son of that monster, but to have slid out from between its fetid thighs? Loki’s very skin was contaminated, to know it ever came in contact with that beast, he wanted to tear it from his muscle and his muscle from his bones and burn those bones until the marrow boiled itself clean.

He was bleeding. He was bleeding and his blood was foul!

The room smelled like burning plastic, the fumes stinging his eyes. He jerked a hand, seiðr forcing the smoke through the ship’s filtration system before the fire alarm could sputter to life.

His hands.

He couldn’t touch himself. He couldn’t touch his own skin, they were dirty his very flesh was made of dirt!

He held them carefully apart, his clothed forearms resting on the leathers of his pants.

His clothes were dirty. They had touched _him_ and _he_ was dirty and there was not enough soap in all The Nine to purge him of this filth!

The fumes were gone but his eyes were still burning.

 _Why?_ Why that bastard? Anyone else, it could have been anyone else! His father? Fine, he could stomach that creature as his father. But mother?

His mouth was watering and Loki swallowed back the bile.

How could the fates be so cruel, to curse him so from the moment of his birth? To wrap him in this vile flesh?

_“We are not man or woman.”_

Loki had made it a point not to do anything… untoward whilst in _that_ form. He had taken a look, had seen everything was tucked out of sight, but he hadn’t any desire to probe further. Had felt sick at touching himself in that form. So he…

Was he even a ‘he?’ Could he rightfully call himself a man when he was born… like _that?_

Loki had taken the form of a woman many times throughout his life, but it had always been a choice. Had always been a decision to shed his manhood and embrace something else. It had been his _choice_ and now it _wasn’t!_ It had been taken from him!

Everything. His people. His family. His body. Everything stripped away piece by piece until there was nothing of his left. Until he was nothing but a tainted shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! He didn't take that well! Who'd have thought...


	10. In which Loki speaks with Valkyrie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to last chapter, any of you all read Ursula K. Le Guin's 'The Left Hand Of Darkness?' If you're into sci-fi explorations of mono-gendered cultures, then that's the book for you! I'll admit to stealing a few ideas from that novel, particularly Juri's sentiment that Jötnar are 'whole people.'
> 
> As for this chapter, ergh! I've reworked it so many times and kept toying with just cutting it. But, now, here it is!

“Heeey, look who’s here.”

“Hello, Valkyrie.” Loki didn’t get up as she strode into their training room. It had been over fours weeks since he’d stepped foot in the little auxiliary cargo hold. It hadn’t gotten any warmer in the interim and the scorch marks from his last temper tantrum still marked the grated floor and lifeless walls.

“You here to sulk or fight?” She threw a dirty rucksack to the ground, the sound of bottles and knives clinking against each other.

“Hm, we’ll see.”

The Valkyrie selected one of her unmarked bottles and popped the cap with a dagger. She slid to the floor, back against a burnt and dented crate. Loki shifted on his perch, the steel box beneath him thunking hollowly as he turned to face her.

“So,” she drawled, “how things been? Got that stick out of your ass yet?”

“Why, in need of something long and hard?”

“From you? Nope.”

They both glared, Brunnhilde sipping at her drink.

Loki broke the silence. “You are upset with me.”

She snorted. “ _You’ve_ been avoiding me and pouting like a child every time we talk. This room smelt like burnt garbage for a week. I’m waiting for you to grow up.”

Loki fought the urge mock her in turn, she would only use it to prove her point. “I have been, perhaps, a tad harsh in my manner.”

“That sure is a fancy way of saying ‘I’m a dick.’”

“Indeed.”

“Is that what passes for an apology in the royal family?”

“Hm, more or less.”

_Usually less._

Valkyrie snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Okay, great. Why don’t you fuck off now?”

_Because as much as he hated being here with her, right now, he hated being alone even more._

This had been going on long enough, her blocking him at every turn. But it was not for the sake of petty rivalry. Loki slid off his crate to sit on the floor.

“You think me cruel.”

“I think you spoiled.” She raised her ale, one finger loosened to jab in his direction. “I think you had everything handed to you your whole life and I think whenever life gets a little less than perfect you throw a tantrum.”

_Oh, how rich, coming from her._

“And you, instead of facing your problems, drink yourself blind.”

She leant forward to better sneer at him. “Yeah, I do. And fuck you, that’s my choice. I lost everything. You _know_ that, you saw it, you colossal asshole.” She all but spat the words out. “At least I keep my problems to myself.”

Loki scoffed.

"What?" she demanded. "Come on, spit it out."

“You think I haven’t suffered losses? That I am untouched?”

“We’ve all lost stuff,” she flopped back against her crate and gestured at their surroundings, at the refugee ship as a whole. “You don’t see the rest of us being dicks about it.”

“Then you have been paying much attention. But I digress, Yes, we’ve all lost,” he agreed. “Lost our homes, our families, our lovers…” Brunnhilde’s cheek twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Yet we have the memories of them, still. We have our stories, our health. Or, you do,”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Tell me, do you know what is like to lose your self? To lose your family even as they stand there whole and hale? Do you know what it is like to lose the very flesh you wear?”

“Oh, ‘whaa whaa, I’m blue. Isn’t it terrible.’”

“Do not mock me,” he growled.

Valkyrie pitched her voice to a high whine, “whaa, don’t mock _meee.”_

“He stole my body!” Loki shouted, slamming his palms against the floor. “I lost my very body! You’ve lost loved ones? So have I! But at least you still have _you!_ At least, at the end of the day you have one thing no one can take from you and I don’t. My very flesh and bones _are not mine!”_

He studied his fingers splayed across the grated floor. His usually perfect nails were chipped, broken from when he tore his quarters apart. His voice dropped to near a whisper. “I always knew there was something… not right. For as long as I can remember. Do you know what is like, to know with every fiber of your being that there is something wrong with you? To know there is something, buried deep in the fabric of your soul, that is fundamentally wrong? Do you know what it is like to take a scalpel to your nature, to try and cut the rot out, only to find it cannot be removed?”

Valkyrie’s jaw was set and her gaze cast to the side.

“You do.”

And though she did not move and did not speak, they both knew he was correct. He had felt the pain of her loss, a pain too deep for the loss of a mere comrade in arms.

Loki sniffed, pulling back. It was satisfying to see her hurting, to see her feeling some of the anger and helplessness he felt. She may put on a show, she may have escaped Asgard’s reach for fourteen hundred years, but Asgard’s hooks could never be removed. Not fully. Even Loki, for all he flaunted Asgard’s rules and customs, still sometimes felt a pang of disgust after indulging in some of his proclivities.

Nevermind that it was, apparently, part of his nature. Nevermind that his desires were, apparently, perfectly mundane amongst his… Amongst the Jötnar. Did that matter in the court of public opinion? Did it matter when that cruel voice beneath his thoughts spoke in a tone of disgusted anger? No.

“You knew. About the Jötnar, about their-- how they--” He didn’t even want to say it, to speak it out loud, to have her thinking about what his other form was like. Of all the Ás on this ship, she would be the least likely to mock him about… that. But even saying the words brought the sour taste of vomit to to the back of his tongue.

So he veered to another topic, “When I-- When I discovered the truth, discovered what I was, I felt sick. I felt like there were coals in my throat. Like there was a flood rushing through my veins, the muddy froth gushing out from that abhorrent place I’d tried so hard to bury. But you know what? I was almost relieved. Relieved because finally, _finally,_ I knew _why._ Finally I knew why I was never good enough. Why I always had to work three times as hard just to be subpar.

“It was not because I was not trying hard enough. It was because I was fundamentally incapable of being what I was supposed to be. It was, simply, not in my nature to _be_ good enough.

“But still, I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop trying. Trying to be what Odin wished of me.”

“Is this the point where you tried to blow up Jötunheim?” Valkyrie asked. She didn’t sound terribly sympathetic.

“Yes, about that time.”

“That’s all very sad,” she drawled. “But when most of us get sad, we don’t commit genocide.”

“Yes, well, most of us weren’t raised by Odin,” Loki said, resting his his chin in his palm. “Odin was always very proud to tell how his father wiped the Dark Elves from existence. How Bor ended their blight with a permanence. Odin himself spoke proudly of his conquests, of battles fought and won, of monsters slain. I thought only to follow in his footsteps.”

“The Jötnar aren’t monsters!”

“But they _were.”_ He leant forward to press the point. “When I was growing up, they were the boogeymen hiding beneath the bed, ready to gobble up disobedient children. I was terrified of them! Terrified I’d be plucked from my sheets to be thrown in a stew. Thor, too, though he’d never admit it. The Jötnar were monsters, no better than a wyvern or bilgesnipe. And what do we do with monsters? With pests?”

“But they aren’t! You _know_ they aren’t because you _are_ Jötunn! Are you a monster? A Pest.”

Loki’s smile was crooked.

“Seriously?” She snapped, exasperated.

“What else but a monster would destroy an entire race?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She punctuated that with a swig of ale.

“The Jötnar were always the enemy,” Loki said. “They were obstacles to be overcome, beasts to be slain, villains to outsmart. They were not people.” He raised his hands, letting the tips of his fingers bleed blue. “I sought to overcome. To become something more.”

“I don’t-- I don’t even know what to say. That’s so twisted I can’t even argue with it.”

“Yes, well,” Loki shook his hand. His knuckles were growing stiff as the cold of his Jötunn flesh seeped into his Às skin. He forced the blue away. “I won’t claim to have been thinking clearly at the time.”

“And what about now?” She asked, gesturing with her bottle. “You thinking clearly now?”

_Probably not._

“You know,” he mused, “none of the Æsir have seen my other form. Only you. They know, of course. I had no choice in that, Odin announced it at my trial. But they haven’t _seen_ it.”

“What about your brother?”

Loki shook his head.

“Why not?”

_Oh, why not? Why? What would Thor say if he saw? What would he do?_

“Tell me, Brunnhilde, did you keep abreast of The Nine at all in your exile?”

She grunted, frowning around the lip of her brew. “Not really. I spent a couple centuries in Andromeda before I ended up on Sakaar. Andromeda has its own issues, they don’t really give a shit what Asgard gets up to. And Sakaar only gets bits and pieces from the people and junk that get stuck there. Not a lot of intergalactic newspapers falling through.”

“Hm,” Loki nodded. “So you didn’t hear much about the Midgard Wars.”

“I heard about Odin fighting the Giants, but didn’t get any details. I’ve heard plenty in the last six months, though.”

“I can imagine.”

“A lot about you, too.”

_He could imagine._

“Odin wrote a play about it? Or was that you? There’s some confusion on that point.”

Loki laughed. “Ah, yes, that was me.”

“Yeah,” she drawled, leaning back. “I figured. So, anyway. Midgard Wars. What does that have to do with all this bullshit?”

“It was bloody,” he started. “Vicious. The Jötnar lacked Asgard’s Dwarf-forged weaponry but made up for it in size and number. Thousands perished on both sides. Mortals, too. The whole realm was thrown into a miniature ice age, freezing and starving yet more mortals.

“Eventually, Odin pushed the Jötnar back, forcing them to retreat to Jötunheim. It was months more fighting on that desolate planet before Asgard took the capital. Odin lost his eye to Laufey’s claws and Laufey lost the heart of his realm to Odin’s. And me.”

Loki paused here, but the Valkyrie didn’t offer sympathy or insult, just took another sip of her brew.

“That wasn’t the end of it, of course. There were scattered infestations of the Giants still littering Midgard’s mountains and northern climes. Enough that, even centuries later, Thor and I made it a hobby to hunt them down.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you hunting them? Were they even doing anything?”

Loki huffed a laugh. She was so quick to defend. “Yes, they were doing things. Not all of them, I admit, but enough to be a problem. The Mortals had no way to protect themselves, squishy helpless creatures that they are.” _Or, had been._ “They cried to us for help, and we answered. Thor, especially, took up the calling. There were times he would scour Midgard’s mountains for years on end, just for the sport of tracking a Jötunn down for slaughter. It was how he earned the byname Giant Slayer.”

“So... what?” She asked. “You think if you turn blue he’ll snap and brain you without thinking?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “No, of course not.” _Not anymore._

“Then what?”

Loki pursed his lips. “It is easy to know in your head something is true but to forget in your heart. Thor knows I am Jötunn. They all do. But they do not _know._ They have not seen it with their own eyes. They have not experienced it. They know I am wrong, I have always been so, but it is forgivable so long as I keep it hidden. So long as I do as the Æsir do.”

“And the Æsir hate Frost Giants.”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you’ve been shitting on Juri and Muthrun. Because that’s what a good little Ás does. And if you talk a big talk they’ll… forget? Forget that this is just a costume.” She gestured at his chest, to his pale skin and green eyes.

“More or less,” he ground out.

“That’s bullshit. That’s bullshit, and you know it! They know you’re Jötunn and they haven’t strung you up yet! Showing a little decency towards Juri and Muthrun won’t change that.”

“Are you so sure?” He asked. “When I ‘died’ on Svartalfheim, and took on Odin’s guise, I threw a grand funeral for myself. I pulled out all the stops. The best wine, the richest meats.”

Valkyrie snorted. “I’ll bet.”

Loki grinned. It had been a hilarious affair, watching people toast him, watching them shed tears as he conducted speeches praising his own life. Well, until…

“I eavesdropped, of course, on the mourners. Many of them said some lovely things. Many disparaging things, too, but that was to be expected. I’d been a little shit all my life and the court was my playground. Quite a few stuffy nobles were still sore about one thing or another. Then...”

Loki’s humor suddenly grew thick in his throat.

“I heard a man, a soldier, say something to the effect of ‘good riddance. The Jötunn beast should have been put down years ago.’”

Valkyrie’s lips twitched in distaste.

“He wasn’t the only one. As the night wore on and the ‘mourners’ fell deeper into drink, more and more expressed gleeful satisfaction at my death. Some I’d never met. Some I had. Some I had even called friends.”

_One of them had been a lover._

Loki drew in a deep breath.

“So,” Valkyrie said, “you wrote a play about how great you were.”

“Heh. Yes.” He found he was picking at his palm and forced himself to stop. “It did a good job swaying the populace, on the whole. There are still those, however, who adhere to their initial judgment,” _quite a few,_ “though they do not speak of it so loudly. They know Thor would not approve.”

Valkyrie shifted in her seat, her eyes finding her rucksack. “Here,” she said, tossing him one of her bottles, then taking up her own again. “So. That sucks.”

“Mm.” He popped the cap and took a sip. It wasn’t abhorrent.

She was quiet for a while, swirling her drink around and around, the bubbles slowly growing fewer. “I guess I get it. Maybe. Why you’d want to distance yourself from them.”

He nodded.

“You’re still an asshole, though.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed.

“Look, I get it. Asgardians are a bunch of closed-minded bigots. But the Jötnar in the hold have nothing to do with all of this. It’s not fair to shit on them so a bunch of assholes won’t shit on you.”

“No?”  he intoned.

“No.”

_What did she know?_

“There’s nothing I can do to fix the Jötnar’s public perception,” he said, taking a swig of the brew. “I can turn them into sympathetic simpletons or ruthless monsters, but I cannot make them _people_ in Asgard’s eyes. Would you have me martyr myself for a lost cause?”

“No. But you shouldn't just sit on your ass. You’ve weaseled your way into most of their good graces, despite your general you-ness. You gonna tell me you couldn’t use some of that God-Of-Bullshit shtick to help them out, too?”

 _What did she know?_ What did she know of smiling brightly as her friends tacitly insulted her? Of having every bedtime story cast her as the villain? Of watching war veterans clutch their blades as she passed?

“You have no right to ask this of me.”

She chucked her bottle, the glass smashing on the crate beside his head. He didn’t flinch.

“You’re a coward.”

“You’re a fool.”

“You won’t even try!”

“They celebrated my death!” He shouted, his voice ringing the metal crates about them. “They toasted my last breath, they laughed at my cold body! The night was filled with stories of all the other Jötnar they had slain in the war! Stories of Jötunn blood at my own damn funeral!”

The two of them glared in silence. Loki’s breathing was ragged. Brunnhilde's jaw was tight. The Valkyrie broke first, looking away. She grabbed another bottle from her bag, jamming her dagger under the cap and then chucking the seal away.

“This is why I left Asgard. It’s too fucked up to change.”

“I don’t know,” Loki drawled, “I think the change from shining city to supernova was fairly notable.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”

The Valkyrie's pack held more bottles than Loki had realized. They drank them all.


	11. In which a missing friend is sought

_“They eat children, you know.”_

_“No, they don’t.”_

_“They do! You’ve met Orvakr, yes? He was stationed on Midgard before the war, back when the Giants were running ‘bout wild. He had to put one down, it kept raiding one of the Mortal villages. It ate all their livestock then started on the children.”_

_“Orvakr said that?”_

_“Yes. Said it happened a few other times, too.”_

_"What happened? How did he stop it?”_

_“Well, they had to gather some bait…”_

 

_~~~_

 

“Has anyone seen Juri lately?”

Fjulla’s question was met with a few shakes of the head as the other youths returned to their studies. Matron Marta had been leading them through mathematics this week, a subject of which Fjulla was not particularly fond.

“Have you seen her?” Fjulla nudged her brother’s arm. He grumbled as his stylus skittered across the little dragon he’d doodled in his work’s margins. “In the meal hall? Or the training rooms?”

“No.”

Fjulla tapped her stylus against her teeth, surveying the children sprawled about their sleeping chambers.

“I’m starting to get worried.”

“Maybe she got sick” Ragnar said. “You remember how messed up Gormr got after he ate that nutri-bar what had gone bad? Maybe she ate one, too.”

“But she hasn’t been by in nearly four weeks! Gormr was fine after just a couple days.”

Ragnar just shrugged.

“No one’s seen her at all. Not since Prince Loki escorted her off.”

“Maybe he ate her.”

“I’m serious! I’m worried about her.”

“Why? Her mother’s super controlling, isn’t she? Maybe she’s grounded or something.”

“But we should have seen her at meals, surely.”

Ragnar shrugged again.

“Fine. But I’m going to look for her.” Fjulla gathered her studies to store them in the cubby she and Ragnar shared. It contained only a few belongings. They’d been at school when the evacuation started, no time to grab important things from home.

“We’re supposed to have this done by tonight,” Ragnar drawled, still sprawled on his sleeping mat.

“You’re not even on the third page,” Fjulla shot back. “If you’re going to procrastinate, why not do something worth procrastinating for?”

Ragnar rolled his stylus along the ridged floor, the listless sound perfectly encapsulating the room’s mood. “Yeah, all right.”

 

The cooks hadn’t seen Juri and didn’t appreciate being interrupted as they prepared lunch. The janitorial staff hadn’t seen her, but they did speak at length about the children’s messy habits. Fjulla lead her brother to the upper floors where administrative staff and their families slept. She braved some uncomfortable looks to ask some of the high-class youths if they’d seen the barefoot girl, but none had.

“I don’t think her mum was a palace lady,” Ragnar said as Fjulla slunk away from a gaggle of pretty girls. She did her best not to touch her hair, so flat and plain in comparison. “She never wore shoes and she picked her nose and she was always talking about her weird grandma running around the woods. There’s no way she scored a room up here.”

“But no one on our levels know where she lives. Brathi even thought she was one of us.” _One of Marta’s wards._ “What was her mum’s name? Did she ever say?”

Ragnar shrugged.

“When the prince left with her he said her mother would be worried and then they took the lift. So we know she doesn’t live on our floor.”

“Maybe she lives on a lower level.”

“With the Sakaarans?” Fjulla raised a brow at the ridiculous suggestion.

“Well, if she’s not on our floor and she’s not up here, where else would she be? The vents?”

Fjulla chewed on the edge of her thumb, thinking. It was logical, there were only so many places to check on the ship, even as large as it was.

“Æsir aren’t supposed to go on the Sakaaran floors…”

“Yeah, but no one really cares about that. Karl’s always going down there to play dice. The Sakaarans only care if you cause trouble. And their definition of ‘trouble’ is lax.”

“Marta will kill us if she finds out.”

“She’ll kill us if we don’t do our homework, that hasn’t stopped you.”

Fjulla sent a quick glance at the youths across the way, but no one was paying attention to the two siblings. She dropped her voice into a whisper, just in case.

_“Do you really want to go down there?”_

“Sure.” Ragnar said, playing at indifference, but there was a smile on his lips. “If we get caught, though, I’m blaming you.”

 

The Sakaaran levels were bright, colorful, and chaotic. Strips of cloth hung from the ceiling serving as impromptu walls when down and decoration when drawn up. Strings of lights wrapped around piping and the smell of strange herbs wafted from crowded quarters. Unlike the Asgardian levels, which housed only Æsir and the occasional Vanr, the Sakaaran floors played home to dozens of races and animals. (At least, Fjulla thought the small, furry creatures chewing on the wiring were animals. They certainly didn’t seem sentient.)

Ragnar had been right, too. While the siblings garnered gibes and some unfriendly looks, they were not the only Æsir wondering the halls. Several men and women bartered, drank, and played with their Sakaaran neighbors. Fjulla made certain to avoid their gazes, though she was fairly sure Old Kirkr caught sight of her over his mug of… something. He made no move to berate the siblings, however, so Fjulla kept her head down and moved on.

They came upon a large room filled with Sakaarans shouting, jostling, and playing what could be favorable described as music. It seemed to be a recreation area of a sort, with numerous groups gathered about one activity or another, screaming encouragement and challenges. Dice rolled, board games were flipped, and little tokens changed hands at dizzying speed.

“Should we try talking to someone?” Ragnar’s earlier careless bravado was slipping some in the face of such alien chaos. The siblings stood in an alcove by one wall, doing their best to stay out of the way of bustling creatures big and small.

“That _is_ why we came here,” Fjulla agreed, making no move into the room.

“What about that fellow?” Ragnar asked, pointing to a withered thing sat amongst some discolored pillows. It puffed on a pipe as a trio of yellowish creatures argued in a quick, clipped tongue.

“He looks a little out of it.”

“Well, at least he’s not screaming about something or another.”

True.

The siblings dodged their way through the crowd, Fjulla gripping her brother’s tunic as he led the way.

“Hey,” Ragnar said, tapping the creature’s leathery shoulder. “Hey, have you seen a girl around?”

The creature turned sunken eyes on him, blowing a stinking cloud of smoke in his direction.

Ragnar wrinkled his nose and tried again, “have you seen an Às girl? About this high? Can you even understand me?”

The creature took another drag on its pipe. Ragnar turned to his sister, shrugging.

“Let’s try that person, over there,” Fjulla suggested.

The two made their way from one press of aliens to the next. But even when they weren’t ignored outright, they only gained quick ‘no’s and dismissive waves.

“Are you sure?” Fjulla tugged on the Xandarian’s sleeve, drawing an annoyed grunt. “She’s about our age. Braids. Her name’s Juri.” But the alien plucked her fingers from his clothes and returned to his dice game.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind. The siblings turned to find a large rock creature sat cross legged at the edge of a lively circle. Even sitting, his head reached Ragnar’s chin. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re looking for a kid named Juri, yeah?”

“Yes!” Fjulla bounced with excitement as she moved closer to the calcified creature. “She’s a friend of ours but we haven’t seen her in weeks! Do you know where she might be?”

“Have you checked his rooms?”

Ragnar answered, “we don’t know where she lives.”

“Oh, he’s down in the main bays. Him and his mum.”

“We’re not--” Ragnar furrowed his brow. “We’re looking for a _girl._ Not a guy.”

“Sorry, my bad. The person you’re looking for’s got a bunch of braids, sort of skinny, yeah?” The rock man asked. “I’m not great at telling guys from girls. Sort of a weird concept for me. We Kronan’s don’t really do that. We’re all just, you know, people.”

“Oh,” Ragnar blinked. “How do you make babies, then?” Fjulla smacked him. “Ow, what?”

The Kronan didn’t seem offended, however. “Well, when we’re ready to have kids, we just break off a chunk from our bodies, put the pieces in a mineral bath, and make sure the kid gets all the nutrients and care it needs to grow up big and strong. Me, I was grown from me mum’s foot after it get hacked off in a bar brawl. You can have more than one mum of course, but my mum’s at-the-time boyfriend didn’t feel like contributing, so I’m all left foot. S’why I’m so bad at dancing.” The Kronan chuckled at his own joke, then reached out a hand, “I’m Korg, by the way.”

Ragnar and Fjulla shook the pebbly extremity, introducing themselves as they did.

“So, you’re looking for your friend, yeah? You know the way to the cargo holds?” Korg noted the siblings’ hesitation and clambered to his feet. “Hey, why don’t I show you the way. I lost all my chips twenty minutes back anyway. Miek!” Korg waved his hand to get the attention of a sluggy creature across the circle of players. “I’m taking these here kids to the hold. You want anything?”

The slug creature trilled, waving it’s stubby legs.

“Sure thing! C’mon, kids. This way.”

 

The bottom level was deafeningly quiet compared to the Sakaaran floors above. Fjulla could hear the gentle hum of the engine thrumming through the walls, the creaking and clanks of pipes heating and cooling where they ran beneath the grated floor. Korg kept up a steady stream of chatter, describing his childhood rockfields and how they were never quite as nice as his neighbor’s quartz gardens.

“We were working with inferior strata, you see. Too silty. And my mum’s shoddy filter system didn’t help any.”

Fjulla and Ragnar followed several steps behind, doing their best to ignore the chill air.

 _“Isn’t the main hold where The Beast is kept?”_ Ragnar whispered.

 _“Yes. And we’re_ definitely _not supposed to disturb it.”_

The King had been very clear on this point. Deckhands were allowed into the loading bays and the smaller cargo bays, but were _not_ to enter the main hold. That was strictly off limits to anyone without special permission and, as far as Fjulla knew, the only ones with that permission were the King, the Prince, and the Valkyrie.

 _“And the Frost Giants,”_ Ragnar said. _“They’re down here, too.”_

Fjulla nodded. _“And we’re definitely not supposed to disturb them, either.”_

What in the world would bring Juri down here?

“Excuse me,” Fjulla interrupted Korg’s one-sided discussion on the merits of diamondheaded pickaxes. “Are you sure Juri’s on this level? It’s a little… out of the way.”

“Sure he is! _She._ Sorry. Yeah, I showed him and his mum to their rooms myself!” He lead them into a large bay, crates piled high throughout, and began winding his way to a set of intimidating doors on the other side.

“Well, it’s just, Æsir aren’t supposed to come down here. Except to get supplies or such.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I won’t tell!” He gave them a cheery smile, tapping a thick finger against the side of his nose.

“Thanks, but that’s not really what I meant--”

“Here we are!” The Kronan stepped through the sliding doors, pushing them open with a teeth-gnashing shriek. “Hello, Mr. Hulk, Muthrun, Ms. Scrapper. Hello, Juri. You’re friends here’ve been looking for you.”

The great green form of The Beast sat opposite the big blue forms of two frost giants, all three holding cards. The Valkyrie perched on Hulk’s knee, tending to her own hand and a bottle of something dark. They turned at Korg’s loud entrance, eyes flicking from the Kronan to the two Às children behind him. A gamut of emotions flashed over the group, lazy boredom from the beast and incredulous curiosity from the Valkyrie. The larger giant looked, at first, unimpressed but it’s brow drew down and it’s nostrils flared as it turned a slow glare on the last member of the group. Though very blue and very large the last member was, unmistakably, their missing friend.

Juri sunk low behind the small playing cards. They did little to shield her.

Valkyrie chuckled. “Wow. Okay. Um, hey, Korg. How are things?”

“They’re good, Ms. Scapper. Thanks for asking.”

“I think we should leave,” Ragnar croaked, tugging at his sister’s sleeve.

“Naw, come in! Join us for cards!” The Valkyrie beckoned them with a big wave of her arm.

“No,” the larger giant (Juri’s _mom?!)_ growled. It turned back to Juri. “Explain.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know them.” She didn’t look up from her cards, shoulders hunched up to her ears.

Fjulla had to shake her head, feeling as if she must be dreaming. It was Juri, certainly, in the way she moved, in the shape of her eyes and nose. Her face was harsher, more masculine, and she wore only a kilt and a drape across one shoulder, chest flat and bare. Small horns ringed her hairline and her voice was too deep— but it was _her._

“Really?” Korg asked. “They said you were their friend.” He turned to Fjulla. “This is your friend, right?”

Suddenly all eyes were on her, and Fjulla found her voice fleeing down her throat. She darted a quick glance at Juri, who shook her head just barely.

“N-no. No. That’s not… her.”

“Oh,” Korg looked disappointed. “I’m sorry. I really thought he was the fellow you’re looking for. Hey, Ms. Scrapper. Do you know where their friend might be? Same name, same age, braids.”

“But an Às,” Fjulla added.

“Às,” Korg repeated with a hopeful grin.

“I don’t know. I might’ve met someone by that description.” She grinned and very pointedly looked Juri’s way.

Juri’s mom threw it’s cards to the floor and stood. “Out.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Muthrun.”

Ragnar didn’t need to be told twice, dragging Fjulla along as he bolted. Juri looked utterly miserable as they fled.

 

~~~

 

Juri watched as Fjulla and her brother scrambled out of sight, the Kronan following with a jaunty wave goodbye. The bay grew horribly silent with their absence.

The Hulk was the first to speak, idly picking at his nose, “who that?”

Juri shook zher head, carefully rearranging zher cards. It wasn’t a very good hand.

_“Juri.”_

Zhe flinched at zher dame’s deep growl.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met the--” Juri’s protestations were cut off as zher dame cuffed zher upside of the head.

“Don’t lie to me, _child.”_

Hulk laughed as Juri rubbed the sting at the back of zher skull.

“Hey, go easy on her,” Brunnhilde said. “She’s a kid. Kids sneak out.”

Omma turned zher glare on the Às woman. “You knew about this?”

Brunnhilde swirled her drink. “I knew she was going for walks. Didn’t know where she was walking. And I’m guessing no one upstairs knew, either. Would have heard about it if they had.”

“Well, they know now!”

“I haven’t been up in weeks!” Juri cut in. “And I never told anyone. And Fjulla’s a good person. She and her brother were always good to me.”

“When they thought you were Às. And now? Do you trust them to treat you well now?”

Juri didn’t answer.

“Look,” Brunnhilde said. “Nothing happened. No one’s hurt. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Zher dame snarled. “Nothing is _fine._ We were forbidden from entering the floors above. The Æsir will see this as an act of defiance and will seek retribution.”

“If they do, I’ll stop them,” Brunnhilde said.

“Oh, will you?” Zher dame snorted.

“Yeah, I will. Look,” Brunnhilde slid off Hulk’s knee. She only just came to Omma’s waist, but she stood with confidence. “You know I’m on your side, right? I’ve been clear about that. Asgard’s policies are backwards and self destructive and I won’t stand around and let people get hurt because the Æsir can’t be bothered to pull their heads out of their collective asses.”

“Smash ass-ear!” Hulk demonstrated by punching his own palm with a resounding smack.

“Yeah, see? Hulk’s on your side, too.”

Juri sent Hulk a small smile, which he returned twice as big.

“With great respect, Brunnhilde,” zher dame said, “you are an accomplished warrior, but no one soldier can fight an entire realm— even one as diminished as Asgard. When they set their sights on us, there is little you can do.”

“Hulk smash!” This time, his pounding fists shook the room, a pile of boxes tumbling in the corner.

“I might be ‘just one soldier,’ but Hulk can tear this place apart with his bare hands.”

“Excellent,” Omma said. “And when we are all suffocating in the emptiness of space I will be sure to thank him with my last bit of breath.”

Hulk grumbled, eying the dented floor.

Omma and Brunnhilde stood silent for a time, the Às raking a hand through her hair. Juri stayed quiet, doing zher best to blend in with the floor.

“All right. All right, yeah, we can’t fight them. But that doesn’t mean--”

“Stop” zher dame raised a hand. Brunnhilde looked like she wanted to argue, but waited for Omma to speak. “You have been kind to us. And respectful. More so than any Às I’ve known. But the truth of it is, the Æsir do not tolerate my people. We are beasts to be used or vermin to be exterminated. That the axe hasn’t come down upon us yet is nothing short of a miracle. Our only hope was to remain quiet long enough to escape without notice. And it was a slim hope to begin with.”

Zher dame turned an angry, disappointed look Juri’s way, and Juri felt as if zher stomach would burn its way into the floor. Juri found zherself speaking before zhe’d thought the words through, seeking any way to alleviate that tired hopelessness on zher dame’s face.

“There’s another way.” Juri swallowed against the heavey feeling of the room. “The Æsir either use us or kill us. So we be useful.”

Omma shook zher head. “We have nothing to offer.”

“We do! I do. I-- I didn’t _tell_ anyone I was Jötunn, but someone figured it out. Prince Loki.”

“Loki?” Brunnhilde cocked her head.

Juri nodded. “Four weeks ago. That’s why I stopped going above. He told me not to.”

Realization dawned on zher dame’s face. “The seiðr-practice. You learned it from him.”

“Yes. He needed help with a project. He gave me those exercises to help me focus my magic. To make me _useful.”_ Zhe stood, still clutching the playing cards. It gave zher something to fiddle with as zhe spoke. “He is a Jötunn. He’s made a life in Asgard by making himself useful and now I’m useful too. So long as I help him, he’ll step in on our behalf.”

At least, zhe hoped he would. Juri hadn’t seen him in two days, not since he had revealed his parentage, not since he admitted to killing his own dame. Zhe’d waited for him, last night, waited for him to come by for their session with the power cells, but he had never shown. It had been a relief, in truth. The thought of working with that... that _murderer_ was sickening.

But to be without his tenuous protection would be far worse.

“And how,” Brunnhilde asked, slowly, “exactly, is he ‘making use’ of you?” She didn’t sound pleased and Juri found zherself rushing to explain.

“He needs help charging the ship’s power cells. I don’t do all that much, just draw power from an artifact he has and feed it to him, but he can’t do that and charge the cells at the same time. He needs me.”

“You’ve been--?” Brunnhilde clenched a fist and sent a glare towards the ceiling. “That slimy asshole.”

Zher dame didn’t look much happier. “And _when_ did you plan to tell me?” Zhe didn’t wait for an answer. “And what sway does he have to promise us protection? If he is Jötunn, like us, and this I doubt, he has no more power in Asgard than I!”

“He’s their prince.”

“He is either a liar or a pet!”

“No,” Brunnhilde said. “Juri’s right, he really is Jötunn _and_ he’s prince. You’re right too, though, he’s also a little fucking liar. He’s been passing Juri’s work off as his own without credit.”

_Oh._

“He told you about the cells? And didn’t mention me?”

“No. Sorry.”

Juri wasn’t surprised, but it still stung a little. And why should it? He’d been clear in his disdain for zher. But zhe felt the sting all the same.

“Don’t take it personal. The guy’s allergic to the truth. He’s got _so_ many issues.”

Juri had figured that much out.

“Unimportant,” zher dame waved it off. “Do you believe he can do as he says? Does he posses the influence to dissuade Asgard’s bloodlust?”

Brunnhilde nodded, though her expression was less confident. “Yeah. He plays people like a fiddle. And Thor would cut out his other eye to make the little bastard happy. But you don’t always know what he wants until things start exploding. Honestly, I don’t think _he_ knows what he wants half the time.”

“Exploding?”

“Or imploding. Or bleeding. Or disintegrating. I’ve only known him for, like, five months, and the number of fires he’s started in just that time, both literally and figuratively, is ridiculous.”

Hulk grunted in agreement.

What little hope zher dame had shown earlier was quickly dissipating.

“Well,” Juri said, “right now he wants to charge the power cells. Without them the ship stops and we all die. So whatever else he wants, he needs me for that.”

“Yeah,” Brunnhilde said. “And I’ll talk with Thor. Let him know what’s going on.”

“You would tell The Giant Slayer of my child’s trespass?”

“He’s been advocating for you guys. I’ll talk to those kids, too, but if this gets out then it’ll be better that Thor knows the whole story. And Muthrun?” Brunnhilde locked eyes with Omma, “I swear on my honor. I won’t let him hurt you.”


	12. In which Thor confronts various people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially supposed to be part of the last chapter, but I couldn't edit it all in time. Probably for the best, though. It would have made for one monster of a chapter!
> 
> Also! I added banner art to the first chapter! I might do some more artwork for other chapters, too. We'll see.

It was too late to stop any rumors. By the time Brunnhilde tracked down Juri’s friends the boy had spilled the whole thing. The girl seemed apologetic, but what was done was done.

_(Matron Marta had shouted for Brunnhilde to slay the beasts, convinced Juri would sneak in at night and eat the lot of them.)_

And so Brunnhilde trudged her way to the bridge in search of Thor. The man frowned over a star chart with Heimdall. They drew squiggly lines across the holo-map, comparing it to the stars visible through the towering windows beyond the controls.

“The signal isn’t terribly strong, but it is interfering with the aft sensors. The Sakaaran engineers are working to block it.”

“Will it interfere with navigation?”

Valkyrie cleared her throat. Thor turned and, seeing her expression, he sighed.

“What has happened?”

Before Brunnhilde could speak, Kvathi burst into the room.

“Your Majesty!”

Thor sighed again. “Yes?”

“It is the Frost Giants!”

Brunnhilde interrupted before Thor could sigh a third time. “Actually! That’s why _I’m_ here. Nothing _bad’s_ happened.”

“Nothing bad?! The beasts have been stalking our children!”

“She wasn’t stalking anything!”

“Enough!” Thor’s voice rattled the duct work. “Valkyrie. What has happened.”

“First off, it happened two weeks ago. If the Jötnar were planning to hurt anyone they’d have done it already.”

Kvathi opened his mouth to protest but Thor barked at him to be silent.

“The kid’s a shapeshifter. She was bored hanging around with her mum and Hulk all day, so she took Às form and came up here. She made friends with a couple of Marta’s kids before Loki caught her and dragged her back to the hold.”

Thor furrowed his brow in surprise.

“You act as if this is nothing,” Kvathi spat. “But this proves the Giants are uncontainable and eager to disregard our laws. There’s been a Giant seiðrmaster hidden amongst our most vulnerable and no one knew! What if it had grown ‘bored’ sitting idle. What if it decided to have a little _fun_ with our children? Would you risk their lives so callously?”

“She’s not a rabid wolf, you half-wit codger! She’s a kid!”

“It’s a dangerous beast!”

“Kvathi!” Thor shouted. “Did I give you leave to speak?”

The old man stuttered under his King’s glare, then shook his head.

“Then do not.” Thor turned his glare back to Brunnhilde. “You say this happened two weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

“And Loki knows of this?”

“Yup.”

“And when did you learn of it?”

Brunnhilde shifted, her eyes skittering to the side. “I didn’t know she was coming up here. But I did, um, I knew she was a shapeshifter.”

“And you didn’t think to share this?” His tone was growing darker.

Kvathi was smirking at her over Thor’s shoulder.

“She’s a good kid. I knew she wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“I don’t care what you think you know,” Thor growled. “I am your king. It is _my_ job to decide how we handle potential threats.”

“She’s not--”

“I AM SPEAKING!”

The purple haze of pre-lighting rimmed Thor’s shoulders, the taste of ozone crawling into Brunnhilde's throat and the crinkling promise of power pricking along her spine.

“I am King! And it is my job to see our people safely to port aboard this limping pile of junk! How can I do my job when those in whom I put my trust insist on keeping secrets from me? Is it not enough that my own brother takes such joy in tripping me at every turn? Must you add to the festering quagmire that is my every waking moment?”

Brunnhilde stood trying not to fidget under the King’s unflinching glare, his one eye like a concentrated storm bearing down upon her.

Thor was younger than her. He hadn’t even been born when she’d defected. He was a child. But right now he didn’t feel much like a child. No, he felt very much like the Son Of Odin.

“I apologize.” She wouldn’t say she was wrong; she wasn’t. Not about Juri. But she could admit that, as King, he needed to be kept abreast of events. “I should have informed you when I learned of her abilities.”

Thor nodded, some of the static in the air abating.

“Sir,” Kvathi hedged and, when Thor didn’t snarl at him to be quiet, continued. “What would you have us do about this?”

“Nothing. I will speak with my brother. You will tell the people to remain calm as their King deliberates.”

“Sir,” Kvathi began, then thought better of it. “Yes, Sire.”

When the petty noble left, Thor turned. “Heimdall?”

“I was aware.” Heimdall said, face blank as ever.

Thor threw a hand in the air, beginning to pace. “Does no one think to tell me anything?”

“The Valkyrie is right. The Giant child means no harm.”

“Which is not to say harm cannot come about.”

The bridgekeeper tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Thor scrubbed his hands over his face, ending with them behind his neck as he stared helplessly at the ceiling.

“And Loki?”

“In the minor training hall. Though news is traveling through the ship. I suspect he will be on the move soon.”

Thor turned again to Valkyrie, restless tension held in check.

“Tell me what you know.”

 

~~~

 

Loki was practicing his dagger work, sinking blade after blade into the makeshift dummy across the range. No sooner had the knives embedded themselves within the burlap then they burst, rematerializing in Loki’s quick fingers. One after the other, a river of steel running from hand to target.

One of the daggers went wide, just a quarter inch off from the training dummy. Loki recalled it before it could strike the wall beyond, just the slightest twitch of displeasure upon his face.

He hadn’t slept well. Or long. He and Valkyrie had stayed up rather late the night before, griping about Odin and sharing stupid stories of their time on Sakaar.

He’d missed his session with Juri.

He didn’t want to look at the girl. Didn't want to field anymore _questions._ Magic and seiðr-craft, fine. But what right did she have to pry into his history, into his life?

He wasn’t sure she’d want to look at him, either.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, went his blades.

_“Sneaking into the orphans’ rooms.”_

_“Shapeshifter. Seiðrmaster.”_

_“Frost Giant.”_

Loki stiffened, gripping the hilts of his blades, but when he surveyed the training hall he found only a few looking his way. Most ignored him, caught up in hurried discussions of Jötunn mages.

Jötunn mages who weren’t Loki.

_Damn._

Loki moved quietly at the edges of the gossiping crowd, listening in as he made for the door. It would seem someone had outed Juri and the general consensus was she was some child-eating gremlin sneaking through the night. He didn’t hear his name mentioned, though he caught some looks of suspicion as he passed. Loki expected he’d play a role in this tale before the day’s end.

_Damn it. Damn it! Damn it all!_

As he left the training hall he cast a quick look-at-me-not charm. It wasn’t true invisibility, but it would discourage idle gazes as he walked the corridors.

Damn it! What now? What should he do? What _could_ he do? The people had been ready to chuck the Jötnar out an airlock the minute they’d stepped aboard, _(Loki certainly hadn’t helped matters,)_ and that was when they thought the Giants were just two dumb beasts. Now the Jötnar were wile wild-mages bent on child murder. He’d be lucky if the lynch mob waited until dinner.

_“Tried to bewitch one of the children.”_

_“It spoiled the food supplies. That’s why Karl fell ill!”_

_“How do we know it’s not up here now?”_

He weaved through the whispering crowds, skin prickling with their words. This wasn’t good. This wouldn’t end well.

“Loki!”

“Ah!”

Thor grabbed Loki’s leathers, shaking him, though his eyes did not focus on Loki as he did so. The men and women in the hall turned, staring at their King’s odd behavior.

“Remove the charm. I would have words with you.”

Loki dismissed the spell. Thor had learned to see around the charm some centuries ago. He sought out the feeling of Loki’s passing with frustrating accuracy.

“Ehem, Thor. A pleasure, as always.”

Thor dropped his grip and Loki settled back on his heels.

“I have been told you were aware of the Jötunn girl’s abilities.”

The gathered crowd watched the brothers, their curious and fearful eyes scraping across Loki’s skin.

“And what abilities might these be?”

“The ability to change her form and… focus energy.” Thor was clearly regurgitating information he hadn’t bothered to understand. Loki figured he was referring to their work with the Tesseract, but as he hadn’t mentioned The Cube, it was safe to assume he didn’t know that specific detail quite yet.

Loki cleared his throat, feigning unconcern. “I may have been aware of such things.”

“And why was I not?”

“Am I your sitter?”

“You are my council!”

“Well,” What could Loki say? He couldn’t disavow the girl, Thor clearly knew some of Loki’s dealings with the Jötunn. He needed something close enough to the truth that, if Thor went digging, he wouldn’t immediately discover Loki’s lie. Admitting his connection to the girl, though, rankled, especially with so many eager ears listening in. But what choice did he have?  “I didn’t feel it your concern who my students are.”

“Your--” Thor blinked, brought up short.

“Yes, I am tutoring the girl.”

Whispers filled the hall, sussuring disbelief and outrage.

“But you… You’ve spent the past month demanding I execute them! Now she is your student?”

“That was before. This is now.”

A woman from the crowd called out, her voice shrill “you’re teaching them magic?!”

Loki shrugged. “They are capable of learning. Who am I to waste potential?”

“It snuck into the children's rooms!”

“A test of her abilities,” Loki smirked. “Do not fear, I was watching over the proceedings.”

“You _let_ that thing in? With the children?”

What an irritating shrew, to interject herself into a conversation between her betters. She needed to be quiet.

Loki’s smirk turned predatory. “Do not worry. I’ve plenty experience curbing Jötunn appetites around defenseless babes.”

The woman stumbled back, eyes wide.

“No! Stop it!” Thor said, finger first jabbing at Loki, then to the crowd. “He’s joking. And it’s not funny, Loki. You jackass.” Thor grabbed him by the back of the neck. “I am calling a meeting and you are going to explain yourself and you are going to stop acting like a child and— damn it!— I sound like Mother! Curse you!”

Loki giggled to cover up the queasy feeling in his stomach.

 

~~~

 

“The device requires a great deal of concentration and raw power to control. I was unaware it required two people to operate when I secured the power cells on Vertex.”

“So, when you said you couldn’t locate the fuel cells?”

“A lie.” Loki shrugged, Thor sighed, and Lulu gurgled in outrage. Thor had berated her quite thoroughly for ‘losing’ the cells.

“Why?” Thor asked, leaning against the council table. “Why would you lie about this? What possible reason could you have?”

“What should I have said? ‘Terribly sorry, Thor, but the power cells we are relying on to save the last vestiges of Asgard don’t work?’ I’m rather attached to my head and would prefer it remain attached to me.”

“I am tired of your jests!” Thor slammed the table, members of the committee startling in their seats. Loki maintained a visage of calm. “Yes! Yes, you should have told me! You should have told me precisely _because_ we are reliant on these cells. Because without them we _will_ die! And because if I had _known_ then I could have helped!”

Loki waved off Thor’s anger like a bad smell. “But I didn’t need your help, did I? I solved the issue without you. You should be thanking me,” Loki ignored Thor’s indigent sputter, “aren’t you always moaning about the stress you’re under? This was one less thing you needed concern yourself about. You’re welcome.”

Matron Marta slapped her mug down, the tea long gone cold. “Your secrets have caused trouble in the past, _Prince.”_  Her tone of address showed little respect, even while using his title. “There’s a long list of people who got caught up in your games and got hurt because of them. I don’t care who or what helps you with those batteries. I care about those kids under my care. They’ve lost too much to go putting them in danger like that.”

“They weren’t in danger,” Valkyrie said, not for the first time.

“They’re not warriors, Ma’am.” Marta’s tone with The Valkyrie wasn’t anymore respectful than with Loki. “They can’t defend themselves if that Giant turns feral. And I’m no warrior, neither. You say that Giant won’t hurt them, but I remember when Midgard was still a frontier land. I remember settlers coming home with half their families gone, missing. Not just soldiers, Ma’am. Those Giants took the women and children, too. Even a young Jötunn can crush an Às skull with just one hand. Maybe this one’s not violent, but I’m not risking children on that bet.”

“You’re fine having him,” Valkyrie indicated Loki, “reading them bedtime stories. He’s Jötunn, or did you forget?”

Loki very much wanted to stab Brunnhilde somewhere soft.

Marta eyed Loki for a moment, but set her jaw as she answered. “I trust my Prince. Even if I question his judgement at times. He’s as good as Às in my mind.”

Loki chewed his tongue, caught between gratitude and nausea. He had wondered, sometimes (often) what the Matron thought of his… Of that. Giants were a common topic in bedtime stories and whilst the children were never shy in their questions, Marta had always been a closed book. He hadn’t been sure if she listened to his stories with interest or suspicion.

But, even though she defended him, he knew her words only meant so much. ‘As good as Às.’ But not truly Às. Just… almost.

“I am not concerned about the Jötunn girl’s character,” Thor said. “I trust Valkyrie’s judgement and I trust my brother to put the children's’ safety above petty pranks. What concerns me is the dishonesty amongst my closest council and the disharmony it continues to cause. Kvathi,” the little noble perked up as Thor addressed him. “How has damage control progressed?”

“Not well,” Kvathi said grimly, though Loki could tell the man was pleased. “General opinion is that the Jötnar should be executed immediately.”

“So,” Thor said, “it is much the same as yesterday and the day before.”

“Ah, no.” Kvathi fiddled with his tablet, pretending to check figures so he needn’t meet his King’s eye. “A number of veterans of The Midgard Wars have gathered a group of warriors and threaten to take action into their own hands. I’ve had guards posted outside the main cargo bay. But, to be honest, finding guardsmen who are willing to defend those beasts was… difficult.”

Valkyrie crossed her arms. “If anyone tries anything, Hulk will rip them to giblets.”

“Uhm, yes.” Kvathi nodded. “I suspect that has been the most significant deterrent so far.”

“Really?” Loki asked, light disdain coloring his words. “And that we’d all be adrift in the unforgiving reaches of space without the girl’s help, has that factored into their decision making at any point?”

“She’s hardly the only seiðr practitioner on the ship,” Kvathi said. “Eir is a master healer and she’s several apprentices within the healing halls. I know for a fact there are practitioners amongst the noble ladies and I suspect there’s one or two with the cook staff. Surely any one of them would more than suffice.”

“Oh, yes,” Loki drawled. “I shall have Lady Finna cast a few beauty charms upon the atomic power cells, shall I? They’ll look positively lovely as the life support systems fail.”

“Are you claiming you’re able to teach some half-wild Giant to activate the power cells but not an educated Lady of the court?”

“I am,” Loki said with a lazy smile. It wasn’t entirely a lie, most of the practitioners on the ship knew little more than house-spells. Though he was sure he could tutor one of the less brain-dead bourgeoisie or, more likely, one of Eir’s assistants, but that would require revealing the Tesseract. Everyone in Asgard knew of Loki’s attempt to capture Midgard with the help of the Tesseract and, while public opinion was more favorable towards him now than four years ago, Loki’s standing with the noble class had always been fickle. Any woman of good standing would side with Thor over Loki, and Thor had been quite vocal about his disappointment with Loki’s actions on Midgard.

No, Loki’s standing was far too tenuous to risk that— with the court or with Thor.

“I am sure we could find you an appropriate apprentice,” Kvathi said.

“He _has_ an ‘appropriate apprentice,’” Valkyrie said, pitching her voice high to mock the petty noble. “Juri’s doing the job just fine.”

“Maybe so.” The way Kvathi said this made it clear he didn’t believe it to be so at all. “But the public feels unsafe with the Giants on board, even more so now we know one of them is a seiðrmaster.”

Loki scoffed. “She’s hardly a master--”

“And there is only so much I can do to assuage their fears. Unless something changes, something significant, I’m afraid the situation will end… poorly.” Kvathi turned to Thor, his haughty attitude turning serious. His words now were sincere, without the layer of smug satisfaction he’d cultivated throughout the meeting. “Sire, the Jötnar cannot remain on this ship, the people simply will not allow it. It’s not in question whether this will come to blows, it is a question of whether your people will be hurt in the process. You have the power to end this with little bloodshed, if you act before tempers overcome common sense.”

Thor glared at the table, his frown deep and frustrated.

“Thor,” Valkyrie said, leaning forward and waiting for his gaze to meet hers. “You can’t do this. She’s just a kid.”

Thor stayed silent but turned his eyes to Loki and Loki knew he wasn’t thinking of the Giant girl in the hold. He was thinking of his brother, of a young boy with a sharp smile stealing pastries from the kitchen, of black hair changing colors on a whim, of a Jötunn foundling hidden within the palace causing mischief and mayhem but sharing those pastries once the coast was clear. And perhaps he thought on the death Loki wrought on Midgard, on the feverish battle they’d had on the Bifrost— but if so, those memories were brushed aside as Thor’s expression grew determined.

“Lulu, I want a dozen Sakaaran guards on rotation outside the main cargo bay. No unauthorized Æsir are to enter and the Jötnar are not to leave. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My King--”

“No,” Thor cut Kvathi off. “The girl’s trespass was minor. It does not merit capital punishment and I cannot allow such an injustice to unfold. You will tell the people that no one is to harm the Jötnar, either of them. And if I discover any disobeyed this command they will answer to me, personally.”

Kvathi looked as if he were trying to swallow a lemon but he nodded, scribbling notes on his tablet.

“Loki, Val, you will accompany me to the hold.”

The Valkyrie nodded. Loki frowned.

 

~~~

 

The larger one, Muthrun, looked very much like the Jötnar Thor had fought six years ago. Big, stern, a shaved head and close-cropped horns. Her kilt was different, more colorful and detailed.

She didn’t look much like a ‘she.’ She looked very much like a man.

Thor wondered how many of the Jötnar he’d killed were women.

The two Giants stood when Thor and his retinue entered the bay, Muthrun placing herself in front of the youth. Hulk was less formal, shouting a happy ‘hey, little god!’ Thor returned Hulk’s wave, then addressed the tense Giants.

“At ease. I mean you no harm.”

The Giants did not relax.

“I have been told you, Juri, have been helping my brother with the ship’s fuel supplies.”

The girl sent a look to her mother, asking permission, before giving a quick nod.

“I thank you for your contributions.”

Another nod, this one small and accompanied by shuffling feet.

Talking to them was like talking to stone.

“What he’s saying,” Valkyrie broke in, patting Thor on shoulder with exaggerated disrespect, “is we’re all good. You’re not in trouble.”

“Not precisely true,” Loki said. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, still by the threshold as if he feared he’d step in something unpleasant if he were to enter.

Thor spoke, “you will not be punished. Though I should warn you my people are not pleased. I understand you meant no harm but convincing the populace of this is not easy.” Indeed, Thor could hear angry shouting outside the hold’s doors as the Sakaaran guard ushered the Æsir protesters away. “It would be best if you remained in these quarters. For your own safety.”

“We understand,” Muthrun rumbled. He ( _she,_ dammit) remained stiff spined, and Thor noticed she had a hand on the girl’s wrist, a light touch to keep the child in place behind her. It was such a small thing, and Thor still couldn’t read any expression on the Giant’s face, but he recognized the actions of a parent fearing for their child.

Thor cleared his throat, feeling very much like an intruder. “Right. Good. If there is anything you need, you may let the guards know.”

He turned on his heel and left, Loki falling into step beside him, Valkyrie remaining behind. He could still hear raised voices in the hallways beyond. The Sakaarns must not have managed to force the crowds onto the elevators quite yet. He opted to take the stairs. The door stuck in it’s track, and Thor pried it open with a grunt to step into the cramped stairwell.

Loki spoke as they began to climb. “This can’t last.”

“And what do you suggest?”

His brother was silent.

“Heimdall has informed me there is a port not far off our current course. Seventeen days to reach it. We need only keep the mob at bay until then. After that, you can select a new apprentice from the healers.”

“None of the healers show promise. The Giant girl is the best candidate.”

Thor paused in his climb to stare his brother down. Loki merely shrugged, a _‘what can you do’_ sort of gesture.

This was ridiculous. Their own mother had praised Healer Eir’s skill in seiðr on multiple occasions. It was simply preposterous to think none of her healers could rise to the occasion. Preposterous that of the three thousand Æsir on this ship not a single one could make the cut.

_Three thousand Æsir and only three Jötnar._

His brother had always been lonely. Even when surrounded by friends, even with an entire drinking hall enraptured by his every word well into the night, even then… Loki didn’t talk about it often, not when they were children and certainly not now, but Thor remembered little questions when they still shared a room or later as they camped beneath the stars.

_“Do you ever feel like you are the only one in the world? Like everyone around you is a ghost? Or, perhaps, that it is you who are the specter, passing through a crowd but never touching.”_

Thor had not known what Loki meant. It was nonsense. They were The Princes of Asgard, foremost of The Nine. They had to beat boot-lickers off with a stick, they were fawned over by the most gorgeous women in the realms, and they had companions whose friendships had been forged through centuries of battle and blood. But Loki always held himself apart, as if he engaged with the world from behind a closed window. Or perhaps a mask.

Loki didn’t think like Thor. He didn’t think like anyone Thor had ever met. He was entirely unpredictable, as likely to take offense from some stray comment as to laugh and Thor never knew which it would be until it happened. Could never even tell whether Loki laughed in earnest or was merely playing along until he could enact revenge for whatever innocent comment he’d taken umbrage with.

And Thor had chalked this up as simply Loki, simply the strange whims of his little brother. But...

But talking with that Giant just now, it had felt very much the same. She gave nothing away, a blank slate in the face of Thor’s offered hand. Like talking to stone.

Loki stared up at Thor from the step below, his expression earnest as he lied about apprentices. Loki’s face was a blank slate onto which he drew whatever expression best served, and sometimes the expression was truth, many times not.

Loki did not need the Jötunn girl. There were those among the Æsir who could do the task just as well. No, he wanted the girl for another reason.

Perhaps… Perhaps he had finally found another ghost.

Thor sighed. “I will do what I can, Loki. But if the choice is between their lives and your preferences, I will not indulge your gambles.”

Loki nodded and they began to climb again.


	13. In which Loki doesn't care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter, but I'll be making up for it next chapter! Enjoy.

_“A seiðrmaster, and it snuck into the orphan’s hall.”_

_“The Prince vouches for it, that it’s unaggressive. He’s even taken it on as a pupil.”_

_“And you don’t find that concerning?”_

_“It’s… I’m sure there’s more to this than we know.”_

_“Yes. And_ that _concerns me.”_

 

_~~~_

 

Loki avoided the meal hall, slipping into the kitchens adjacent to nick breakfast. The head cook frowned in disapproval, but didn’t stop him as he filled his bowl. He’d done this before when the lines out front were too long and, as much as it irritated the kitchen staff, they weren’t going to berate their prince. Leaving the kitchens, however, put him back in the main hallway, and he wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid attention.

“Prince Loki!”

He turned, dragging the grimace from his features as he did so. “Matron Marta. Good morning.”

“If I may speak frankly, my Prince, there is nothing good about it.”

He was very tempted to simply leave, but that seemed unwise with the ill-will currently swirling about his reputation. So, instead, he plastered on a friendly smile. “Oh?”

“Would you care to guess how much sleep I have lost? To know a Frost Giant had snuck in under my nose, had been posing as a friend to the children under my care? To know my prince had let this rogue slip in and menace the girls and boys I had sworn to protect?

“And the children. How could you do this to them? How could you stand by, knowing the danger they were in? How could you?”

Loki was having a difficult time maintaining his polite expression, but others in the hallway were listening. Openly, in many cases.

“I assure you, the situation was well in hand.”

“In hand! Do forgive me, my prince, but even you with all your ways cannot prevent disaster when not present. Where were you when that creature took meals with my children. How well would you handle the beast were it to snap? Were it to decide its dinner was not enough? Just a second too late and the life of child would be on your hands!”

Loki glanced to the porridge he held, slowly cooling, then back to Marta. “I think Jötunn appetites may be exaggerated.”

Marta huffed, a flicker of shame crossing her features, but she rallied. “Do not play obtuse, it doesn’t suit you. I speak of the Giants in the hold, born and raised of Jotunheim. Their ways are not our own. Not even close. You are young, you don’t remember The War. You don’t remember the soldiers returning from battles, their limbs dead from cold. You’ve never seen a man frozen from the waist down, heart still beating and lungs still breathing but his gut dead, left to either die slowly or live forever in the healing halls. They thought it was funny, to see how many pieces they could freeze off before a captive died. They made it a sport.”

Her eyes were red now and she swallowed back the waver in her voice. Loki made it a point to meet her gaze, though it was difficult. He rather wished he’d simply brushed her off earlier.

“You don’t know,” she said, “how quickly they can leach the life out of a man. And you don’t know what horrible things their battlemages did, how close we came to losing the war because of wicked creatures like the one stalking my wards. How they tore down entire battalions in the night. Entire towns. Those are just stories for you. But I lived it. I’ve seen what they do.”

She sniffed, wiping her face on a sleeve. “Whatever else you are, you’re our prince. It is your duty to protect us, to keep our children safe. And we are too diminished for your games.”

Loki shifted his porridge from one hand to the other with a sigh, resting his freed palm on the woman’s shoulder.

“Marta, I apologize. Please know that, whatever tricks and games I may play, I would never put children in harm’s way. You know this, surely?”

She nodded.

“The Giant who came to your hold is a child herself. She is inquisitive and brash, as all children are, but has no desire to cause harm. Now,” she had opened her mouth to protest, so he held up a finger, “I understand your concern. I do. And both the child and her mother have been confined to the main hold. It is best for everyone, I think.”

“And what is to keep it from sneaking out? From taking the form of another and returning to my wards as we sleep?”

“Well, I told her to stay put.”

Marta frowned, his declaration did not put her at ease.

Loki took a moment to think, then, “I am the rightful king of Jotunheim, did you know? I hadn’t realized at the time, but it is traditional for the heir to defeat the old king in combat. When I killed Laufey, I became the rightful ruler. Had I wished, I could have revealed my heritage and claimed the throne right there and then.”

This was, of course, a total fabrication. Loki knew nothing of Jotunheim’s rules of succession, but he was rather betting on Marta knowing less.

“When the two Jötnar in the hold realized I had killed Laufey, and that I was their long lost prince, they pledged their undying loyalty to me. Neither of them will take a life without my express orders.”

Marta’s frown did not abate. “The Jötnar are not known for their discipline. I would not trust them to keep their word.”

“Well, I give you mine. No harm will come to your wards.”

She shook her head, turning from him. Loki remained where he was as she returned to the meal hall, as those who’d gathered to eavesdrop dispersed.

He shoved his porridge into the hands of a passerby. He wasn’t hungry.

What did she know? What did he care?

 

~~~

 

“She can hardly stand!” Nefja said.

“And it’s as if she dreams, talking to things that aren’t there,” Lifa added.

“And I’m very sorry,” Loki said, hands clasped behind his back. The women had cornered him in the upper floors after his meeting with Kvathi. “But I’m certain Eir can handle the affliction without my help.”

“I’m sure she can,” Nefja said. Her hair was knotted in the elaborate style of the court, but without the oils and powders required to keep it in place wisps escaped from the buns in a halo of frizz. “But what’s to keep it from happening again? You know Meinolf fell ill in exactly the same manner last week.”

“And Kieron fell ill two days before!” Lifa said. She’d given up styling her hair and hid it beneath a silk handkerchief. It didn’t match her dress. “They were poisoned!”

“Poisoned?” Loki asked.

“Yes, by the Jötnar!”

Loki tried very hard not to sigh.

“It’s those vile nutrition bars,” Niatha said. “Hrefna, Meinolf, and Kieron all fell ill after eating those bars.”

“Everyone on the ship eats those bars everyday. They aren’t poisoned.”

“Not all of them, no,” Lifa agreed. “But some of them are! The Jötnar are trying to pick us off one by one--”

“My prince!” A young girl skidded past the hallway before reappearing to pant in his direction. She caught sight of the two noble women’s glares, but spoke anyway. “I’m sorry, but it’s my uncle. Rignir is threatening him! He’s going to challenge him to a duel. Please!”

“Oh! That does sound urgent. My apologies Lady Nefja, Lady Lifa.” Loki turned his back on the noble women with relief. He waved the youth onward. “Make haste girl!”

The sounds of huffing outrage faded as the girl led him at a jog through the upper floors.

“What has happened?” Loki asked. He didn’t much care, but it was a more interesting waste of his time than listening to paranoid women.

“My cousin has a fever and my uncle got medicine from the healers. But now Rignir is claiming the elixir belongs to _him,_ that he got it for his wife!”

“Mm, how terrible.”

She led him to a wing used primarily as a forum by the lords and ladies, though they had taken to throwing ‘balls’ every Wednesday. The soirees were sad affairs, with no food or drink and only a motley assortment of musical instruments. Loki figured they did it mostly to have something from which to exclude the common folk.

“Over there!” The girl said, pointing.

Loki could hear two men shouting but a wall of onlookers blocked his view. He shouldered them aside until he broke through the press of bodies.

“I got it from Healer Tyuwin just yesterday!” A tall, thin man said, shaking the vial he clutched in one hand.

“It belongs to my wife!” Shouted the other. He was shorter, with greying hair, but he held strength in his wide shoulders. “And I know that’s mine! It’s got a tear on the label!”

“It probably got torn when you tried to take it from me!”

“Enough!” Loki announced his presence and the two men startled.

“My prince!” The taller fellow, the Uncle Loki presumed, sketched a surprised bow. The other, Rignir, nodded with a grunt.

“I’ve been told you both claim rights to the vial.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“May I see it?”

The uncle hesitated, but gave the medication over.

“Please, Sire. My son is very ill. The healers gave this to me to help him sleep through the night.”

“I saw your boy playing with his friends this morning,” Rignir growled. “Meanwhile, my wife is burning with fever. And now you snatch her life-saving medication from her shaking hands!

The bottle was a small thing, only half full. A Xandarian sleep aid, meant only to ease mild symptoms. Were the patients dangerously ill, the healers would have kept them in the healing halls for observation, so Loki felt comfortable assuming the men’s loved ones weren’t in danger of dying. Fighting a duel over such a thing was unreasonable.

“Do either of you have proof the vial belongs to you?” Loki asked.

“I got it last night,” the uncle said. “You can ask the healers. They’ll tell you.”

“And I got it two days ago!” Rignir said. “That’s why it’s part empty. My wife’s been taking it.”

“The healers gave it to me half-empty because they don’t have a lot of supplies! It came like that!”

Loki raised a hand and the two men quieted. Either explanation could be true. Indeed, he suspected neither lied, that they had both visited the healers. Such a thing would be too easy to disprove. Which meant one of them was either looking to get more than his fair share, or he had lost or misplaced the vial rightly given to him and was seeking to replace it. But such a petty argument wasn’t worth the time necessary to discover the truth.

“I’ll speak with the healers tomorrow,” Loki said. “In the meantime, share the bottle. There’s enough to last both your loved ones for two more nights.”

The uncle drew in a breath, his cheeks flushing, but he swallowed back any harsh words. “Yes, my prince.”

Rignir wasn’t so restrained.

“Share?!” he spat the word like a curse. “He stole from my sick wife and you would reward him for it?”

“I will speak to the healers,” Loki repeated. “If they have extra medication then I will have some sent to the both of you.”

“This is absurd!” Rignir said. “You side with thieves and criminals while honest citizens suffer.”

“You question my ruling?” Loki asked, his voice even, but the cold glare he’d adopted had those around him backing away.

“Yeah,” Rignir said, hesitant at first, then gaining momentum. “Yeah, I do! Who are you to decide? What right do you have?”

“What right do I, as Prince of Asgard, have to pass judgment on the squabbles of petty nobles?”

“But you’re not Prince, are you? Not of Asgard. You’re just some pet Odin dressed as a man.”

The hall was silent, filled with staring eyes. Loki burned, the back of his neck prickling with heat, his breath hissing through his teeth. Rignir stood with his chin high, shoulders back. Loki’s offhand twitched, longing to draw forth a dagger, longing to see fear in those defiant eyes.

But there was no winning such a fight. If Loki laid the man out, his detractors would use it as proof of his vile nature. If Loki lost the challenge, then they would say he was weak, unworthy of his title. And if Loki fought with magic, then they would claim him unhonorable whether he won or lost.

No. He could not fight this blustering braggart. Instead, Loki forced his rage into a hot coal buried in his stomach, and straightened.

“Well, if I am not your prince then I have no obligation to you or your wife’s health.” He turned to the uncle, who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. “I rule in your favor. The medicine is yours alone.”

“What!?” Rignir shouted as Loki handed the bottle over. “You can’t! It’s my wife’s!”

“Your wife is not my concern.”

“You have no right--”

“I am second in command on this ship, leader of the Sakaaran rebels, and, whether you like it or not, Prince of Asgard. If any of these titles offend you, you are free to seek shelter on some other craft. I would be happy to escort you to the airlock, if you so wish.”

The man choked.

“No?” Loki asked. “Then I believe you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

The crowd parted for him as he left. He kept his head high and refused to look back as Rignir swore, as the hall burst with voices.

He didn’t care.

 

~~~

 

“Heeey, Lackey!”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Valkyrie ignored his growl, jogging to catch up with his march.

“Didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“Didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Gonna eat dinner?”

“No.” He was almost to his rooms. He just wanted to be alone. No nagging nobles, no dithering dolts, no vexing Valkyries. No one begging for a fist to the face. Just quiet.

She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Come off it, Lokes. Let’s--”

He slapped her hand away, giving a shove to her sternum. She regained her footing and spread her arms with a frown.

“Really?” She asked.

“Don’t touch me.”

She cocked a brow. Slowly, deliberately, she extended one finger, raising it to his chest. Loki snarled, batting her hand away and sending a jab at her throat. She deflected his strike, snaking her arm around his to put it in a lock, but Loki twisted and kicked at her shin.

Valkyrie slid her foot back to avoid the blow and Loki took advantage by striking at her throat again. She turned her shoulder to take the blow and grabbed his outstretched arm, sliding her free hand below his to give a quick strike to his belly.

Loki took it with a grunt. Her upper openings were unguarded and Loki caught her cheek with a left hook. Brunnhilde stumbled back, nose dripping bright red.

“Hah!” She laughed, wiping the blood from her face. “Nice one!”

Loki waiting for the next round, feet planted, but it didn’t come.

“Feel better?” She asked, and he was taken aback to realize there was no mocking bite to the words.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps I should try again.”

She snorted, which was unfortunate as it sent a spray of blood down her front. “Aw, shit,” she laughed again.

Loki rolled his eyes, conjuring a handkerchief. She took it.

“Look, you don’t wanna get dinner that’s fine. I just wanted to catch you before you disappeared into your lair or whatever.” She slapped a hand on his shoulder again. “I know people’ve been giving you shit today. Just wanted to say you’re doing good.”

“I-- oh.”

She gave his shoulders a couple pats then stepped away. “I’ll have someone bring dinner up, all right?”

He nodded his thanks and she left. He could hear her swearing with a chuckle as she dabbed at her nose. He continued on to his rooms.

_Doing good._

It wasn’t even phrased as an insult, as so many of Brunnhilde’s compliments were.

He shook out his hand. Her face had been unreasonably hard.

It was stupid. All of this. What did he care what any of them thought, good or bad? Peons and deserters. He shouldn’t care.

His shoulders were tense. He forced them to relax.

_Doing good._

Two artless words.

They shouldn’t mean so much.

Loki stopped to scrubbed at his eyes, to take a shuddering breath.

Such a small thing. Just two words. But his chest felt lighter. Just a little.

He raked his hands through his hair brushing it back into place. He turned the last corner to his rooms, tension melting, but it all came back in an instant.

Red paint on his door, the scowling face of a Jötunn scrawled across the metal. It’s severed neck dripped painted blood on the floor.

Loki turned from the graffiti, hands shaking.

He did not care.

He didn't.

He... he turned and left.


	14. In which things come to a head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: violence.

_“I have my children to think of. I won’t wager their lives on the King’s judgement. I won’t risk their lives for the King’s pride. We have lost too much, come too far to fall at the hands of these monsters.”_

_“What will you do?”_

_“What needs to be done.”_

 

~~~

 

Loki had to push his way through the mob gathered in the hold, men and women shouting at the guards to let them into the main bay. One woman dragged her eyes from the doors long enough to notice who had shoved her to the side, and she pulled away with a quick intake of breath. He endeavored to ignore her and the other glaring gazes tracking him.

Stood by the door were two dozen armed Sakaarans and the few Æsir warriors Thor trusted to follow his orders. The Æsir guards were stationed in front, with the belief that the citizenry wouldn’t attack one of their own. It had worked so far, but Loki wasn’t sure how long it would last.

Seventeen days? Sixteen, now. Could they keep watch that long, or would the mob break through? And even if it did last…

Only sixteen days. Sixteen days to recharge enough batteries to get the ship to Midgard. It was impossible at their current rate. Two a day wasn’t enough. He needed at least eighty seven more fuel cells, and that was a conservative estimate.

His jaw hurt. He forced himself to unclench his teeth. Again.

He wouldn’t be able to get Juri through this frothing mob, even using invisibility. They were too closely packed to pass through unnoticed. But he had anticipated this. There was an amulet in his pocket, pulsing with the uneasy energy of the Tesseract, calling to it. He needed to get this over with quickly. He’d needed to leave The Cube elsewhere, outside his dimensional pocket, for his next little trick. He didn’t like leaving it unguarded, even hidden as it was.

Loki reached the front of the mob, the guards dropping their spears into his path.

“Really?” Loki drawled.

“We need to call any visitors in for approval by the King.”

“I’m approved.” Or, he had better be. Loki would line Thor’s bed with used bath towels if he found out otherwise.

“I’m sorry, my prince. I’m sure you are, but I need to confirm.” He did look sorry, or perhaps he was simply worried Loki would set his shoes on fire. Loki certainly felt tempted.

"Very well,” Loki said. When the guard’s gaze flickered away in search of his communicator, Loki cast an illusion of himself over his own form, matching his stance perfectly. With his double in place, he pulled a cloak of invisibility over his true form and stepped out from the illusion.

He could wait for permission, it likely wouldn’t take long. But on the other hand, screw Thor. Loki didn’t need his bloody permission. And he certainly didn’t need to follow the orders of some lowly doorman.

Loki stepped between the guards and tugged the door open a crack, sliding through. The door's sudden movement startled one of the Sakaaran guards, but she simply blinked and pushed the it shut once more.

He let his cloaking drop. Muthrun noticed him immediately, her (Her? Its? Whatever.) head snapping to stare mid step. Hulk noticed a second later and banged a fist against the trash strewn floor.

“Go away, Puny God!”

Loki spared the creature a sneer before addressing Muthrun.

“I am here for Juri.”

A low thrum began, almost below Loki’s range of hearing. It took a moment to realize it was coming from the Giant.

“I did not give you permission to use my child for your schemes.”

Loki crossed his arms. “And I am not asking for it.”

The growling grew louder.

“Oma.” Juri stepped out from behind a drape of plastic curtains. She looked sleep mussed, but the bags beneath her eyes said she hadn’t slept well. “You know I must.”

“Hush! I am your dame, it is my say what you will or will not do!”

Loki raised a brow. “Well then, what shall she do?” He cocked his head to the side, listening to the angry shouting from through the bay doors. “My, they _are_ loud, aren’t they? What do you think could have riled them up so?”

Muthrun bared her teeth, but she knew her protests were pointless. Her safety, and that of Juri, hinged on their cooperation.

Loki beckoned the girl forward and she obeyed with tired steps. The medallion in his pocket was uncomfortably warm as he grasped it in his palm.

Muthrun set her jaw, the thick muscles in her arms twitching with the desire to throttle Loki’s satisfied smirk from his face. He smirked harder.

“This… channeling,” the Giant said the word slowly, as if trying to wrestle with concepts beyond her ken, “is it dangerous?”

“Oh, quite,” Loki answered pleasantly. Before Muthrun could demand to know more, he activated the medallion, the Tesseract’s energy snatching both Loki and the girl from where they stood and flinging them into the place between places. It poured them back into reality with a nauseating swirl, and suddenly they were in Loki and Brunnhilde’s little training room.

Juri stumbled and tipped to the side, falling into a pile of crates. They clattered and toppled down, leaving her sprawled in an ungainly mess of blue limbs and grimy boxes.

Loki rolled his eyes.

The training room was empty, he’d made certain of that before spelling the door locked and leaving the Tesseract within. The last thing he wanted was Valkyrie stumbling on The Cube and carting it off to Thor.

He swept the Tesseract up, stripping the charms of hiding from it and slipping it back into his dimensional pocket. The charms were good enough for short term use, but he didn’t trust them to hide The Cube forever. Those who sought it had keen eyes.

“Wha-huh?” Juri wobbled to a sitting position, taking in her new surroundings with wide eyes.

“We teleported.”

“I just-- I feel like I got turned inside out…”

“Hm, a more accurate description would be ‘I feel like my three dimensional form was extruded through the fourth spatial dimension with a brief detour through the fifth and sixth.’”

She didn’t react to his quip beyond a furrowing of the brow, the disorientation of their unorthodox mode of transportation still dragging her thoughts down.

Loki huffed. “Pull yourself together. We’ve work to do.” He summoned the ritual mat and it’s herbal and mineral components, laying them out with precision. The mat sparked with latent power. He really did need to wash it of the stray energies.

Juri managed to get to her knees and shuffle forward, still blinking away the dizziness. “But, how?”

“The artifact. I told you it is a junction of roads, yes?” She nodded. “And roads may be traversed. Typically, one must find a tear in reality through which to access these higher roads. They can be anywhere, though rarely are they easy to find and one cannot choose where they let out. The Cube is different, it leads to all places _and_ it can be accessed from all places, if you possess the key.”

He paused in laying herbs to flash her the medallion. “Infusing an object with The Cube’s energy let’s one tap into its power and it’s pathways. If you’ve the skill to activate it, The Cube will draw you to its current location.”

He’d done similar to infiltrate SHIELD’s base those six years ago. Then, he’d been furnished with a shard of some mortal’s burnt skull infused with the Tesseract’s power. He hadn’t asked where The Other had procured it.

The girl took in the information with a queasy nod, then, “this isn’t the engine room.”

“Astute observation. Have a cookie.” He flicked a sheaf of ash bark at her. She caught it with a frown.

“Why did we have to leave the hold? Oma knows what we’re doing, now. Zhe wouldn’t have stopped us.”

“I don’t want your mother dripping maternal concern all over our work. And the less I see of that green behemoth the better.”

Juri glanced about the abandoned bay, shredding the bit of bark absentmindedly. “I’m not supposed to leave our rooms. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to before, but now I’m very much not supposed to. King Thor expressly forbid it _yesterday!_ If he finds out…”

“He knows you are helping me with the fusion cells.” He sprinkled a small handful of lead powder in the top right corner of the mat. His supply was growing thin. He’d need to acquire more.

“Yes, but I could help you in the main bay. He never gave permission to leave, even with an escort.”

“And if he complains,” _which he would,_ “I’ll be sure to tell him I kidnapped you against your will. Which is true, so stop whining.”

There. The ritual was set.

“Prince Loki,” she trailed off and dropped her eyes to her lap. Noticing the shredded bark sprinkling her kilt, she busied herself wiping it away.

“Was there more to that or may we continue?”

“I just... The Æsir have been outside our door all night. Shouting. Hulk demanded they be quiet, but they still wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t sleep and-- and--” She took a deep breath. It shuddered in her throat. “You said you would protect us if I helped you.”

The girl wiped at her eyes. The skin beneath was bruised purple.

“They want to kill my Oma.”

“Yes. That’s what happens when a Frost Giant steps out of line.”

She was clutching the clasp of her cloak, now. Worrying the fabric there to a fray.

“Please. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can start with holding out your hands.”

She sniffled but did as he ordered, taking the Tesseract when he summoned it. She grit her teeth against the rush of power, but spoke through the discomfort.

“What do you do? You wear Às skin and walk amongst them, but they don’t mind. What did you do to gain their trust?”

“I served as their prince for thirteen hundred years. Hold still.”

He summoned a spent fuel cell from his pocket dimension and got to work, weaving The Cube’s energy into the places between atoms, then pulling it taught. The helium atoms burst into their component parts, a wave of heat and power straining to escape the cell’s walls. He pulled his consciousness from the battery’s swirling lights with a gasp.

Even with four weeks of practice the process still left him lightheaded.

Loki disappeared the Tesseract to give the both of them a short rest before the next cell.

Sixteen days. Sixteen days and maybe less.

Loki glanced to the Jötunn youth. She wiped the beginnings of perspiration from her brow.

“The-- The Æsir outside our quarters,” Juri huffed. “Can you make them leave? If they really do trust you, can’t you tell them that I’m not dangerous? Like before. You can even call me stupid, I won’t complain this time.”

“I’m working on it.”

Though there wasn’t much to be done. He’d stuck his neck out as far as could, claiming the girl as his apprentice. He’d garnered a good deal of ill will for that act alone. Asgardians refused to meet his eye in the hall, conversation grew stilted in his presence. One gnarled veteran had been bold enough to spit on the ground as Loki passed. Loki had smiled winningly and then made certain every nutri-bar the man received was from the spoiled stock.

Thor wasn’t receiving nearly such a hostile treatment, even though it was his orders they followed. Still, Loki had heard plenty of not-so-polite conversations in regards to their king. If even Thor wasn’t untouchable, what chance had Loki?

“Hold out your hands.”

They worked in silence, charging the second cell and then immediately moving to the third. The girl glanced to him in question as he placed the battery between them, sweat dripping along her temple. They hadn’t tried doing three in a night yet, but Loki summoned the Tesseract and she had to either take it or let it fall.

When he placed the forth down, she spoke.

“Are--” she gasped a breath, “are you sure?”

“We’ve been falling behind. I’ve been going easy with you, in consideration of your inexperience. But if we wish to keep the ship traveling at a steady pace we need more cells quicker.”

“We do? How many?”

“At least six a night, preferably seven.”

And seven only if they managed to get the Jötnar safely to port. Loki wouldn’t bet on that.

 _“Seven?”_ The girl’s shoulders slumped, her flushed cheeks paling. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“If you can’t, then the Æsir will have no use for you and will force another on me in your place. It’s your choice.”

Juri swallowed, red eyes pleading, but Loki simply held out the Tesseract for her to take.

When the forth was done he had to blink back spots from his vision. Their break was longer this time, and Loki pulled from his pilfered rations to help regain their strength. The bar looked too small for the Giant, dwarfed by her blue hand, but she didn’t ask for a second.

“You said there are others who can help with this?” Juri asked. Her breathing had evened out but her complexion was pale.

“Potentially.”

“Why don’t you ask them?” At his raised brow, she quickly continued. “Not that I won’t help, too. But, maybe we could split the work.”

“What use would they have for you, then?”

“I’d still be useful! We’d just be working with others, too.”

“I have, so far, refused to work with anyone but you. If I change that policy, they’ll demand I work with anyone _but_ you. I said I would protect you and your mother and you are asking me to throw to the wind the one thing keeping you safe.”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s fine. Are you--”

“No, wait,” she said, her brow furrowed. “If you could use someone else, you would have. You’ve spent this whole time insulting me and my Omama’s magics and our people. So why me?”

“You don’t think my protection offered in earnest?” Loki asked, his tone overly sweet. He knew the answer.

Juri pursed her lips, suddenly hesitant to speak her mind. It was funny watching her remember her position. But she remained distant, she wouldn’t let this drop.

“Fine. You’re right. My sympathies are not so easily won.”

“Then, why?”

“Because…”

_Because you are ignorant. Because you’ve no idea what it is we’re playing with. Because even if you did, you have no loyalty to Thor. Because, occasionally, your company is not entirely unwelcome._

“Because you are expendable.”

Her expression fell, just a slight slackening of her features as the words descended upon her.

“Because this is a dangerous, tasking job and I will not risk an Às life upon it. Because if you die, only monsters will mourn you, and I do not answer to the whims of monsters.”

The muscles in her jaw grew tight as she broke eye contact, her gaze flicking from one corner of the ritual mat to another, blinking rapidly.

“Are you satisfied?” Loki asked. “May we resume or shall I go into more detail?”

“No,” the Giant croaked out. “I understand.” She stood, her gangly limbs shaking as they unfolded.

As she turned for the door, Loki asked, “and where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“We’ve more work to do.”

“I don’t care!” She whirled, stamping a bare foot on the slatted floor, crates rattling with the impact. “I’m tired and you’re awful! You’ve been nothing but terrible since we got here! I thought--- I thought you were going to help us. I thought we finally found someone out here who wasn’t a rotten, cruel, mockery of decency and we wouldn’t have to run anymore or steal or cheat. But you’re just like everyone else and I don’t understand why!”

She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to banish the threat of tears. Loki remained seated, expression unchanging.

“When we first saw you like this,” she gestured to his Às form, “I was so excited. Ecstatic to meet another shifter. Oma thought you’d lied about being Jötunn, that you were really Às, but I didn’t believe zher. And zhe told me the Às would hate us but I didn’t believe that either because why would they? We helped them! We gave them food when they would have starved!

“But zhe was right about the Às and zhe was right about you. You’re not Jötunn. You’re something twisted and rotten and I don’t know whether to loathe you or pity you.”

She stood unmoving, waiting for a response. When one wasn’t forthcoming she turned again for the door. But it wouldn’t open. She tapped the control console again, then harder, before glancing back to Loki, her eyes just a little too wide.

She was afraid. Good. She’d been entirely too free with her words for entirely too long.

“Are you done?” Loki drawled.

“Open the door.”

“No.”

Open--”

“And then what? You’ll waltz through the angry mob upon your stoop?”

She shifted, shrinking into her waifish Às form. She had to hold up her kilt to keep it from falling. Loki raised a brow with a pointed look at her chest. She glanced down, then flicked a hand, drawing an illusion of her blue dress in place.

“Now open the door.”

“No.”

“Open the door or I’ll-- I’ll--”

“What?”

She abandoned the illusion and her Às form, shifting back to Jötunn. She squared her shoulders and stepped forward, throwing her head back to stare down her nose.

“I know how to fight. My dame killed dozens of Às warriors on Midgard and my Omama taught me to hunt little things like you.” A flick of her arm and ice slid into place, a blade traveling the length of her forearm and ending in a jagged edge. “So open the door.”

“Oh, child,” Loki chuckled. Finally, he stood, and noted the way Juri shifted her weight back as he did so. “Do you know how many Jötnar I’ve killed?”

She set her jaw.

“Neither do I! I lost count a long time ago.”

The girl had thought to befriend him? To appeal to his Jötunn nature? And how? By insulting him? By asking him questions even Thor knew not to ask. She was a coarse, uncultured, stringy barbarian child and her attempts at civility had been cute. But he no longer had time to entertain such whims. She needed to be brought to heel.

He hadn’t drawn any weapons, but as he took a lazy step forward the girl still responded with a step back.

“So many killed I lost track, and that was centuries before I set your planet ablaze.”

Juri blinked, her stiff warrior act slipping. “What?”

“The Bifrost,” Loki said. “It’s a crossroads, much like the artifact we’ve been utilizing. And, much like the artifact, it is immensely powerful. Laufey threatened war with Asgard and I took it upon myself to end that threat. Permanently.”

Her iceblade had drooped at her side forgotten as she listened, wide eyed.

“I aimed it at your capital, flung the door wide, and watched as your people burned.”

 _“No.”_ A quiet breath.

“I would have let it run its course, too, until every pebble on that miserable planet had been scorched black. My brother convinced me to spare you, but it was a close thing. He still holds hope that your kind can be civilized. I’ve my doubts.” He shrugged.

Ice was crawling over the Giant’s arms and shoulders, a manifestation of her fear. An instinctual reaction to threat like the rising hackles of a cat or the tucked tail of a dog.

“Why?” She choked the word out. “It’s your home, too. You’re Jötunn. Why?”

“As you said,” Loki cocked his head to the side, a smile in place, “I am a twisted, rotten thing. I am selfish, and cruel, and my patience is growing thin.” He pointed to the ritual mat, waiting behind. “So. Sit. Down”

She hesitated.

“I will not ask again. Sit.”

She shook her head, cheeks wet.

“I don’t have time for this.” He drew forth his daggers with a flick. She raised her iceblade, holding it protectively in front of herself as he approached.

He leapt, right blade swinging and the Giant brought hers down, the ice passing through his illusion. She stumbled, off balance as the simulacrum dispersed. Before she could regain her footing Loki darted in from behind, sticking the point of his dagger into the back of her thigh. He hopped back as she cried out and swung wildly.

The Giant stared at him in shocked betrayal, as if he’d stabbed her through the heart instead of the minor nick it was.

“Are you done?” He asked again.

She snarled, throwing a wave of ice across the floor, its ragged spikes aimed for his abdomen. Again his illusion dispersed, impaled by the rime frost, but the Giant was ready for the trick this time. She spun, fingers skimming the floor, forming a jagged barrier. Loki had to dive and roll as a spike the size of his leg crackled forth.

The girl stood in a crouch, red eyes locked on his as she blew hot breaths into the cold, dry air.

Loki licked his lips and summoned two doubles, his three forms fanning out to flank her. But the girl wasn’t put out for long, letting her eyes unfocus. Loki could sense her seiðr billowing into the room, feeling for the currents of magic. She turned to follow his true form as he circled her, ignoring his doubles. He dismissed them with irritation.

“What are you hoping to accomplish?” Loki asked, twirling his left dagger. “Even if you somehow miraculously win, you still lose. The Æsir would tear you limb from limb.”

“They’re going to anyway, though. Aren’t they?” She spat.

She hadn’t meant the accusation, but Loki’s silence confirmed the truth of it.

“They are… And you knew. That’s why you need more cells! You want to get as many as you can before they murder me!”

She swung her bladed forearm, slinging shards of ice at Loki’s heart. He ducked into a side roll as the shards whistled inches from his skull. He threw a dagger in return, but she shifted her feet and the icewall shot up to intercept.

“You promised to protect us but you can’t! You can’t because they hate Jötnar and you’re one of us, no matter what you say, you are Jötunn! And they hate you just like they hate me!”

She kicked the icewall, heavy chunks of ice flying. Loki batted one aside and it slammed into a crate with enough force to buckle the metal. Another piece grazed his arm, slicing through the leather and into the skin beneath. He snarled, more in insult than pain.

“And it doesn’t matter what you do!” She leapt, bringing her blade down for a great blow, but the movement was slow and Loki danced to the side.

“It doesn’t matter what you say!”

She swept her arm out, aiming to cut him down at the knees but he leapt and twisted over her blade. He darted in but she twisted a foot and another spike of ice sprang up, forcing him back.

“Because you’re Jötunn! And you’ll always be Jötunn!”

“Shut up!”

He threw his second dagger. The Giant brought round her blade to block and the metal sunk through the ice, embedding in her arm. She screamed and clawed at the knife, but her own biology was working against her, the reflexive ice crackling over the knife and keeping it stuck.

“I’m their _prince!”_ He summoned a throwing dagger but the girl stumbled to the side, taking only a glancing slice to her thigh.

“You’re a liar!” She returned, slamming her iced arm against a crate, shattering the rime and dislodging his knife.

He summoned a fistful of flaming plasma and threw it at her head. She ducked and it splattered against a crate behind, blue flames turning acrid as the plasma bore through the metal.

“You’re a fraud!” She shouted and the ice shards she flung were tinged pink with blood.

He summoned the Tesseract. Damn this whelp, he’d burn a hole through her her chest.

Her eyes grew wide as he aimed. She dodged to the side, the ends of her braids atomized and scattered across the cosmos.

“And a murderer!” she shouted.

He fired again and she spun, the beam missing her by inches.

“And I can’t wait for them to tire of their stunted pet! Because they will and then it’ll be your head they’ll come for!”

He screamed and fired a third time, opening the Tesseract wide, the stream of energy flooding the room azure, but this time the girl stood her ground, hands raised to catch the light. It pooled in her palms then arched out in furling sun flares of whiteblue heat. The ribbons of light sliced through crates and floor and ceiling. Wiring sparked in the blackened wounds, pipes cracked and spewed pressurized air and gouts of filtered water.

The roar of The Cube mingled with their screams and a lower sound of something too deep to be heard by ear. Until--

Her scream cut off and suddenly the beam was flying uninterrupted, tearing into the wall behind. Loki slammed the portal shut with a gasp and banished The Cube to the ether.

He tried to speak, but couldn’t hear his voice over the ringing in his ears. He scrubbed afterimages from his eyes, blinking away the glowing spots.

“Juri?”

He stumbled forward, tripping over a slice of twisted floor.

“Shit. Shit!”

There, crumbled amongst the ruins of a crate. Loki scrambled to her side, flinging debris out of the way.

“Dammit, you stupid girl.”

He jammed his fingers below her jaw, searching for a pulse, but couldn’t feel anything over the trembling of his own limbs.

He swore again, shaking his hand, though paused when he caught sight of himself. The skin where he’d held the Tesseract was red and blistered and he vaguely realized the lack of pain was a decidedly bad sign.

He shook his head and refocused on the girl.

If _his_ hands were bad, hers were wretched. The fingers blackened, charred skin crawling up her arms. Her raised ley lines were blistered and cracking along her shoulders and chest, the channels seiðr-burned from the inside out. If the Tesseract’s energy had burned it’s way to her heart…

He plucked a hair from his head and held it before the girl’s nose. The strand hung listlessly.

“Damnit! Damn me!”

He slammed his hands into her chest, driving seiðr beneath her ribs. He pulled at the girl’s magics, feeling its frayed and bleeding edges, feeling the places were the Tesseract tore through her feeble walls.

“Why didn’t you move?! You stupid girl! Dammit!”

He tugged and stitched and wove the weeping pieces together to keep her soul from bleeding out, then shoved a shock of energy into her core. She gasped, the sound wet and rattling— but alive.

His work was quick and messy and a proper healer would have to tear it apart when they made to set it right. But it would keep her breathing for now.

An alarm was crying somewhere. Smoke stung his eyes and burned the back of his throat. The girl, Juri, she twitched beneath his hands, short sounds of pain hiccuping from between bloody lips.

“Damn it! Damnitdamnitdamnit! Fuck!”

Someone was pounding at the door and Loki sat back, dragging bloody fingers through his hair.

“You damn stupid girl!”

She didn’t respond.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ There was no sound to his words, just a whispered breath. _“I’m sorry.”_

Voices outside, shouting. Sakaaran. _Where is the fire? What’s happened?_

_I’m a fool._

_I’m a fool._


	15. In which there are no good choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the extended hiatus. I've various excuses but I'm sure you'd rather just get on with the fic. So, enjoy!

_“Did you hear? Loki did it! He took out one of the Giants!”_

_“Really? How?”_

_“Lured it to the upper deck and set it ablaze.”_

_“Good. The second prince was always resourceful, has always been good at getting done what needs doing.”_

 

~~~

 

“How did this happen!?”

He shook his head.

“Loki!”

“It was an accident.”

Thor raked his hands through his hair, pacing the small vestibule outside the healing hall. Loki leant against the wall, arms folded tight across his chest. The blistered skin of his palms wept clear fluids, but it would be some time before the healers would be able to treat him.

“That was an accident? That? How? You were activating batteries!”

“The charging device backfired.”

“And did _that?!”_ Thor gestured sharply at the ward’s closed door. They could hear hurried voices through the metal as Eir worked.

“The device is unstable. It’s why I needed the assistance to begin with.”

“Why didn’t you mention this?”

“And what would you have done had I told you?” Loki snapped. “Lend a hand? You’ve all the finesse of a falling boulder!”

“Loki!” Thor didn’t seem to have anything more to say beyond that shout of frustration.

“It’s also why I needed to use the Jötunn,” Loki said, refusing to meet Thor’s eyes as his brother fell to lean on the wall opposite with a heavy thud. “The process is dangerous. I didn’t want to risk one of our seiðrmasters or a young student.”

Thor looked disappointed and tired. “So you sacrificed a Frost Giant.”

Loki shrugged. “Would you have rather it been an Asgardian?”

Thor looked as if he’d protest but no words passed his gritted teeth.

The door opened and a frazzled looking healer stepped out.

“The patient is stable. For the moment.”

Loki felt something unwind in his chest, his breaths coming just a little easier.

The healer continued, “but we had to put it under sedation. It kept summoning ice whenever it woke. Healer Torma was burned trying to treat its arm. We, um… Mistress Eir says you may enter, if you so wish.”

Loki pushed through and into the healing halls, Thor following at a slower pace. The room was long and thin, sheets hanging from the tall ceiling on either side to give privacy to patients kept overnight. The beds were little more than piled blankets lain directly on the floor and every available alcove held medical supplies or fresh sheets.

The far end opened into something wider, where Eir had set up an impromptu emergency room. Some of the water pipes running through the walls had been tapped, with sinks made from halved barrels bolted to sheet metal, their basins now lined with bloody towels. The only raised bed in the ward had been pushed aside for their current patient, too tall for its Ás-sized frame.

Juri had been stripped, only a too-small blanket covering her from the hips down. Both arms were bandaged to the shoulder and runes drawn with poultice lined her chest. The delicate latticework of an air-refiner charm haloed her head. Eir would only be using such a working if the girl’s lungs had been damaged.

Loki felt the burn of his own lungs, reminding him to breath.

Damn him. He was a fool. He’d let his pride and anger best him and he halfway killed the stupid girl!

Juri’s bandaged fingers twitched and a thin curl of frost bloomed across her pallid cheeks. Loki looked away.

“When will she wake?” Thor was asking.

“We will keep them sedated for a couple days, then wake them slowly,” Eir said. Her hair brown and braided, she was older than Frigg had been by a couple centuries though she and the queen had been close friends. “They are in pain and, unfortunately, their pain is dangerous to my staff. They can’t help it, not in this state. The ice comes without conscious thought.”

Eir’s pronouncement held the confidence of experience. Thor’s eyes found Loki, a question in them. Eir noticed and answered.

“Yes. Twice, when he was younger.” She turned to include Loki in the conversation. “You grew ill and we could find nothing wrong. Odin removed the lock on your form so I could asses you freely.”

The topic left Loki feeling naked, but they were both staring at him and he felt the need to say something. “And?”

“You had difficulty breathing for the first few years. I needed to know if it was an issue of your birth or Odin’s magics. We eventually concluded that you were born premature, but you did not appreciate my tests to find out.” Her lips turned up in a wry smile, which Loki did not return.

“What of her condition?” he asked, gesturing to Juri.

Eir’s smile dropped.

“The seiðr-burn will heal in time, though they may suffer some numbness in their hands or fingers. Their heart and lungs were damaged, though not irreparably. We’ve monitoring charms to keep their heart and breathing steady, though I do not think it will be necessary. Their seiðr, however…”

Eir studied Loki as he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“Whatever powers you’ve been playing with are vicious things. I’ve done what I can, but their recovery will be long and difficult.”

Loki nodded. There was little else he could do.

A great boom came from the end of the hall, followed by shouting and cursing. Loki turned to find Muthrun ducking into the healing wards, ice forming and breaking across her shoulders as she strode down the aisle. Valkyrie appeared behind, her weapon drawn as she backed into the hall, and Loki could spot a flash of green outside the door.

“No one comes in, got it?” She demanded, and Hulk dipped into view to nod. The Valkyrie jogged to catch up with Muthrun as Hulk barred the entrance, the shouts of the Æsir muffling as the door slid shut.

Muthrun paid no mind to the healers hopping out of her way and Loki quickly stepped aside as she drew close. The Giant fell to her knees by Juri’s makeshift bed. Her hands flittered over the broken child, but hesitated to touch.

She turned her stare on Loki, eyes wide and teeth bared.

“What have you done?”

A growl accompanied her words, deep enough to be felt in his chest, and continued to thrum as she waited for an answer.

“It was an accident. The artifact--”

“You did this on purpose!” Her shout filled the hall, bottles and instruments rattled on shelves and the air dropped in temperature. For the first time, Muthrun’s expression was vivid and open, hatred and fear and helpless anger burning in her eyes. Gone were the subtleties and quite rumbles of distant frustration, this was an avalanche of rage.

Thor shifted by Loki’s side, his hand flexing were Mjölnir used to hang.

“Muthrun,” Valkyrie held up a hand for caution.

“He did!” The Giant yelled. “He threatened zher before they left! He planned this!”

“Why would I want this?” Loki demanded. “What use is she to me like this?”

Muthrun roared, slamming a fist against the floor. The frozen metal cracked under the blow.

“Stop!” Eir shouted. “You will injure them further!”

Muthrun’s rage ended in a sharp gasp, her gaze snapping to the silent girl. She raised a hand, hovering by Juri’s cheek, but looked to Eir for confirmation. The healer nodded, and Muthrun ran gentle fingers across the girl’s brow.

“Oh, my sweet child. What have they done?”

Eir knelt, slowly, on Juri’s other side. The movement caught Muthrun’s attention and Eir introduced herself.

“I am Eir, the personal healer of Asgard’s royal family. I’ve served them loyalty for many centuries. I will be attending to Juri with that same dedication and care. I want you to know I will do everything within my power to help your child.”

“What good are your promises, Ás?”

“I tended to your people in the war,” she said, voice level. “On the battlefield, when the fighting ceased, I lent my aid to whomever needed it. I am a healer. I make no distinction between patients, and Juri is my patient.”

Eir held out her hands to Muthrun, palms up. The Giant glared at them, but Eir left them raised and outstretched. It was an offer of trust. The Jötunn could freeze them solid with a touch, or crush them with the slightest squeeze.

Muthrun, after several seconds, lifted one enormous hand. She grasped both of Eir’s, briefly, before letting go. Eir smiled, and started to explain Juri’s condition in measured tones.

Loki turned from them to leave and Thor fell into step with him. Valkyrie glared as he passed and Loki avoided her gaze, he had no desire to field the woman’s wrath. Eir’s apprentices, meanwhile, paid them little mind, too fixated on their mentor and her volatile guest.

When they were beyond hearing, Thor spoke, “it does not seem the girl will be well enough to disembark at the next station.”

Loki frowned.

“Was this your plan?”

“What?” Loki squawked. “No! I just wanted to get as many cells charged as I could in the time left. In my hurry we lost control of the device.”

“She may be unable to help you, now, even after she recovers”

Loki grunted. It would be some time before she recovered fully. Any sustained seiðr use would tax the girl enormously for many years, assuming she'd be able to perform at all. He’d burnt her in places where no mortal fire could reach, raked gouges across the child’s very soul.

Whatever gripes Loki had with Odin’s meddling, with the lock the old man had forced on him as a babe, Loki could no longer in good conscious complain. What Odin had done was cruel and violating, but Loki’s sin was unforgivable.

He swallowed and did his best not to think on it.

The Hulk crowded the small vestibule outside the ward, growling down the hallway at a gathered crowd of Æsir. Nervous guards seemed unsure whether to point their weapons at the mob or the green beast.

A young man, one of Heimdall’s runners, stood arguing with a Sakaaran guard, but quickly broke away when he caught sight of Thor.

“Your highness! You are needed on the bridge!”

Thor groaned. “What now?”

“A ship,” the man said, bouncing with nervous energy. “They demand to speak with our captain. They’re armed, Sire.”

 

~~~

 

“Brief me,” Thor announced as he entered the bridge. The crew, startled from their stations, quickly returned to staring at various consoles upon seeing Thor’s scowl. A number of Thor’s advisors were already there, but none looked eager to step up. A distant vessel of red and black was highlighted by the digital HUD, a list of weaponry floating on the display.

Heimdall spoke, though he did not turn his gaze from the main view. “Ergon smugglers. They emerged from a nearby jump gate three days past. Twenty minutes ago they changed course to intercept us. The captain claims we have fugitives on board.”

_Ergons? Damn._

“What fugitives?” Thor demanded.

“The Jötnar.” Heimdall’s golden gaze flickered down and to the side, staring through the floor to the infirmary. “It would seem they renegaded on a bargain. The Ergons have come to collect.”

Thor closed his eyes and steepled his fingers by his lips, taking a long breath, before asking Loki, “what do you know of this?”

“I was aware they owed a debt. Nothing else.”

And damn, what had they done to warrant this hunt across the stars? It had been nearly three months since Vertex Station. Starting a brawl in the market place was one thing, paying for jumpgate access to track two debt dodgers through the stars was quite another. Such passes were not cheap and would have required many jumps to overtake the S.S. Asgard. The Ergon’s must truly be pissed.

No wonder the Jötnar had been so eager to leave.

“Fine,” Thor said. “I will speak with their captain.”

A deckhand swiped fingers across her console and a call screen overlaid the main view port. Thor crossed his arms as the hold tone beeped, waiting for the call to connect. Shortly, the screen blinked, changing to the oversized image of an Ergon’s scowling visage.

Loki couldn’t be certain, but he thought it the same creature who had accosted him in the marketplace. He fell still, waiting for the creature to recognize him, but it’s gaze glanced over his Ás form with disinterest. It would seem his change in hue was enough to fool the creature.

“Hail. I am King Thor of Asgard and captain of this vessel. I was told you seek two passengers aboard my ship.”

“Yes,” the Ergon hissed, it’s voice crackling over the stellar distance. “Two blue beings, one larger than the other, who create ice with a touch. They bartered for supplies then used knowledge of our operations to steal our rations. We know you house them. We’ve informants who saw them board your ship. With our goods.”

Thor’s face had gone stony as he listened.

“We’ve our cannons trained on your ship,” the Ergon continued. “Give us the ice creatures and our goods or we will split your vessel in two and retrieve what’s ours from the rubble.”

All this for rations? Were the Ergons insane? They'd just spent months, and who knows how many credits, chasing down the Jötnar over some bloody rations? Was this some backwards cultural things? Perhaps they sought to reassert their honer or some other hogwash. Well, whether or not the Erogons were hardheaded dolts, the Asgardians needed that food.

“We do not have your supplies,” Loki said and the Ergon’s copper gaze turned to him. “The Frost Giants paid their way aboard. Two hundred credits each, if I recall. They must have unloaded the rest of your stolen goods back on Vertex.”

Thor didn’t contradict him, though Loki could see the muscles of his jaw working as he ground his teeth. Thor knew they couldn’t loose those rations.

“We know you have our supplies! We are not stupid. There is a tracking device within your ship. It matches the signal of our anti-theft devices.”

_Damn._

That would explain the strange signal the Sakaarans kept complaining about.

“The Jötnar did bring two crates of belongings with them, but that is all. If they contain the goods you search for then we would be happy to return those to you along with the Giants.”

“They stole well over seven hundred crates. We demand _all_ of our goods, returned.”

“And we would love to comply, but we simply do not have them. You may check our stores. We’ve nothing to hide.”

That, of course, was a lie, but Loki could easily hide the rest of their stores from the sight of simpletons with a few illusions. He’d have to get a team to check each crate for the bloody tracking device first, though.

The Ergon growled, rattling the spines along its neck. “And we will. But if you speak true, then we demand the ice creatures and their ill-gained credits.”

“We would be happy to return you the four hundred they paid us. You would need to speak to them about the rest.”

“Fine.”

Scrounging up four hundred credits would be difficult, but doable. Loki knew many of the Sakaaran passengers had kept some of their finances hidden when everyone was asked to contribute to the communal funds. He suspected Valkyrie might also have had a little squirreled away.

“Have the fugitives ready. We are tired of waiting.”

“A moment,” Thor said, holding up his hand. “I have not agreed to relinquish the Jötnar just yet.”

“They are thieves! We have a right to recompense!”

“I understand,” Thor said. “But they are under my protection. I do not abandon my duties lightly.”

Loki snorted.

The Ergon bared yellowed teeth. “You’ve no choice in the matter! Their lives are ours. The only question is whether we take yours, too.”

“You will give me a moment to discuss the matter with my council. I will give you my decision after.”

“Bah!” the Ergon spat. “You have two hours before we arrive. We will board then.”

And with that, the connection cut.

No one spoke, the tones and beeps of the consoles the only sound on the bridge, until Thor grabbed hold of an empty chair and flung it across the room with a roar.

“Damn it all to the bowels of Niffelheim! Loki!”

Loki danced out of Thor’s reach, palms up.

“This is your fault!”

 _“My_ fault?!” Loki shouted, circling away as Thor advanced. “I told you not to let them aboard! You wouldn’t listen!”

“You didn’t tell me they were being hunted!”

“Everyone on this ruddy boat is being hunted!”

Thor roared again, stamping a foot with enough force to crack the floor.

Heimdall spoke, voice raised but even, “we haven’t time to bicker.”

Thor growled and raked his nails through his shorn hair. “Dammit, fine! What are our options? Can we outpace them?”

Lulu sidled forward, her gills lying flat against her neck in submission. “Their vessel is much more maneuverable than ours. They’d head us off before we finished changing course.”

“And their weaponry?” He asked, though he didn’t look hopeful.

“Standard for a smuggling vessel of their size. Which is to say, much more powerful than ours.”

“So,” Thor said, “We cannot outrun them nor fight them ship to ship.” He eyed the display, the Ergon’s statistics blinking beside the enhanced view. “How many are aboard their vessel? It can’t be more than a hundred. Once they board we could overpower them easily in melee.”

“Sire,” Kvathi spoke from a corner of the room, unwilling to come within range of flying chairs. “We may be able to win in hand-to-hand combat, but not without losses. Even if we lose only a handful of warriors, that is still a half dozen lives in exchange for two Frost Giants.”

“Two Frost Giants and a third of our rations,” Thor retorted.

“No,” Loki said. “I can hide our supplies from their eyes. We need only relocate them to an unused storage room and I will cast an illusion upon the door.”

“Loki…” Thor trailed off, his anger with his brother still bubbling. He clenched a fist, frustrated. “The girl. She won’t survive without Eir’s attentions.”

Loki averted his gaze.

“Help me here, Loki! I know you did not foresee this, but it has come about through your actions. These Ergons would see the Jötnar hang for the aid they gave us. We cannot stand by and let this happen.”

“What would you have us do?” Loki asked. “What options have we? They know we have the Giants, we’ve already admitted as much. We can fight and lose innocent Ás lives or we can concede to their demands and lose two Jötnar. There is no fair choice available.”

And it wasn’t fair. Though the Jötnar had committed theft, it was theft against thieves. And though they had done so for selfish reasons, it was an action which assured the continuation of the Ás race.

But what were two lives against three thousand?

Thor turned to Heimdall, his one eye pleading, but The Watcher shook his head.

“I see no path which does not end in bloodshed. It is your decision how much blood will spill.”

Thor deflated, his broad shoulders slumping. “I gave them my word…”

“You are king,” Heimdall said. “Your duty to your people supersedes your personal honor.”

“It’s the only choice,” Lulu said.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Kvathi agreed.

Thor’s gaze turned to Loki, tired and sad. Loki gazed back.

“Very well. Lulu, have the rations moved somewhere small and out of the way. Check for the tracking device, too. Kvathi, I need you to find us four hundred credits to pay off those ruddy bastards. Loki… Accompany me to the infirmary. We must inform Muthrun of the situation.”

As Thor left the bridge his heaviness melted into tired determination. Loki followed, his face blank, but his throat felt hot and thick. Muthrun would still be there, hovering over her burnt child, waiting for the axe to fall.

It was a lot harder to condemn a monster to death when you knew its name.

 

~~~

 

Not much had changed when Thor and Loki returned to the infirmary. Muthrun still knelt by Juri’s side, the girl unmoving upon the bed of folded blankets. Valkyrie leaned against the wall, cleaning her nails with a dagger. Juri’s harsh Jötunn features were drawn, but sleeping under the infirmary’s soft lights she looked less like a creature crawled from the dark and more like the child she truly was. Softer, younger, and in pain. Most of the apprentices had left now that the emergency was under control, but Eir remained by the Giants’ side, murmuring reassurances. They looked up at the brothers’ approach. Eir rose, as was proper. Muthrun did not extend that same courtesy, though her baleful eyes did not stray from the brothers.

Loki stood a step behind Thor when he stopped.

“Sires,” Eir said with a slight bow of her head. It was informal, but then, she’d seen the both of them throughout their lives at their least dignified.

Thor greeted the healer with a nod. “Lady Eir, Valkyrie, would you excuse us for a time?”

Eir took in Thor’s quiet resolve and Loki’s blank stare. She did not reply immediately, glancing down to her patient, but she could not deny her king. She spoke to Muthrun, “I will be down the way attending to my other charges. Call me if Juri’s condition changes.”

The Valkyrie did not follow the healer, remaining instead in her spot by the wall. “Brunnhilde,” Thor began, but she cut him off.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The Giant sighed. “What do you want?”

Thor shifted under Valkyrie’s lazy stare, but spoke, “it has come to my attention the supplies you traded us were stolen.”

Muthrun’s gaze flickered to Loki though she addressed Thor. “Only just now?”

Thor paused a moment to glare at Loki before continuing. “Yes. Only now. Those you stole from have tracked us down and have demanded your repatriation.”

The Giant’s stony expression broke, face paling. “What?”

“Their weaponry far exceeds our own. We’ve less than two hours before they board.”

“No.” Her voice grew husky, the deep baritone wavering. “Please, you can’t. They will kill us. They will…” she turned to her child. Juri lay still, the aspiration collar regulating the girl’s breathing as her lungs healed. “Please.”

Thor folded his arms. Perhaps he thought it looked like resolve. To Loki, it looked more like a shield against the Jötunn's pleading. Loki realized his own arms were crossed and forced himself to drop them.

Valkyrie pushed herself off the wall. “Are you kidding me?” She demanded, pointing her dagger at Thor in emphasis. “Without their help we’d be out here gnawing on our own boots! You want to hand them over because, what, it’s convenient for you?”

“I do not wish to do this!” Thor said with a stomp of his foot. “I have been given no choice!”

“There’s always a choice!” Valkyrie shouted.

“Then please, tell me! If there is another way then tell me!”

“We can fight!”

“We went over that on the bridge,” Loki said. “Even if we win, a battle would mean losing at least a dozen of our own people. And that’s assuming they don’t blast our ship apart as soon as the fighting begins.”

“So you’re just going to roll over and let them walk all over us?”

Muthrun stood, unfolding to her full height to tower over Thor and the others. “I will not go quietly,” she growled. “If I am to die either way, I will do so fighting.”

Thor’s hand dropped to his side, twitching for a weapon that was not there.

“You would not win this fight,” he said. He swallowed, thinking. “But the Ergons might yet be reasoned with. If you agree to go with them, perhaps you could repay your debt. I will speak on your behalf.”

“Repay my debt? I payed for passage on this ship with rations. Will you be repaying me?”

Thor did not speak.

“My child lies on the brink of death because he,” she jabbed a clawed finger at Loki, “ravaged zher body and soul. Your people are fed because _I_ used what resources I had. And now that we are burnt and used up you would trade us away. I am not surprised. But I will not submit.” Her pitch dropped until it could be felt as a rumble in Loki’s chest. Ice crackled up her arms, spiking along her shoulders. “You wish to spare Ás lives this day? I will tear this ship apart, I will burn and freeze and rend until my last bloody breath and I will make certain you are left mourning your friends.”

“Muthrun,” Valkyrie stepped forward, free hand extended. “We’re not going to trade you. Right?” She turned her glare on Thor.

Thor had shifted his stance, his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to move.

“I would prefer that we didn’t.”

“But you will,” Muthrun snarled.

Loki watched as the argument continued, ice thickening along the Jötunn's form into living armor, static crackling between Thor’s fingers. Valkyrie’s reasurances gave way to aggressive threats.

And Juri lay still.

Muthrun would never agree to go quietly. Whether the Ergons could be convinced to show mercy or not didn’t matter, not so long as Juri required magic to simply breath. Removing her from the healing halls was a death sentence all on its own.

Damn the child! If she hadn’t been so obstinate, if she hadn’t run her bloody mouth, she wouldn’t be in this position! She’d have been awake and whole and capable of breathing under her own damn power!

But no. She’d pushed him and needled and used all of Loki’s hurts as weapons. The bloody, little--

A stray arch of electricity zapped into the floor. Ice crunched underfoot. Eir was shouting for calm. Juri’s breath hitched, a slight gurgle all but drowned out by the argument raging around her.

Damn it.

“Enough!” Loki bellowed, his seiðr amplifying his voice. The others paused and Loki spoke quickly, before they could start yelling again. “There is another way.”

“What?” Valkyrie asked.

“And you are only speaking of this now?!” Thor shouted, static buzzing like a halo about his form.

Loki ignored Thor’s tone, continuing, “the Ergons are looking for two Jötnar, a large one and one… not so large.”

“Yes,” Thor growled. “I was there when they told us!”

“Wait,” Valkyrie said, “you’re joking, right?”

Muthrun was staring, rime frost still cloaking her shoulders, but her rage had turned to a distant, desperate hope.

Loki shrugged, as if he were explaining the weather. “When I met them on Vertex Station they mistook me for Juri. And just now, on the bridge, they did not recognize me in my Ás form. It is clear they do not look closely at Ásanoid features. I could take Juri’s place, they would not question it.”

“Loki, don’t be absurd!” Thor said. “I will not hand you over to these pirates to be executed!”

Muthrun growled.

“I do not plan to die at their hands,” Loki said.

“Then what is it you plan?” The electric hum had died down.

“That is my business.”

Thor looked about to argue but Loki cut him off.

“Brother, you know I place my own well being above all others. I am not the sort to heedlessly risk my life on some fool’s errand. You know this.”

Thor shook his head. He wasn’t convinced.

Loki huffed. “Believe what you will, I shan’t spoil the surprise before it’s sprung. If that is simply unacceptable for you then please, by all means, go ahead with your inevitable bloodbath.”

Thor growled but Loki refused to budge, adopting an air of unconcern as his brother boiled in frustration. Finally, Thor swore and stomped his foot. He turned to Muthrun.

“What say you to this?”

The Giant stood straight, her expression fading into the bland glare she typically wore.

“My child. Zhe will be cared for? You will swear to protect zher?”

“She will and yes, I swear on my honor.”

“Your honor means nothing to me,” the Giant said. Thor sputtered, but she spoke over him.

“Swear,” the Giant demanded, “on your sire’s soul, on your own flesh and on the lives of your people, that no harm will come to my child, Juri Muthrunjarbarn. Swear this on the blood in your heart and the breath in your lungs.”

“Very well. I swear.” Thor’s blue eye locked with Muthrun’s red. “I swear on my life, and on the lives of my people. I swear on my father, Odin Borson, and on my mother, Frigg Fjörgynsdóttir, that no harm will come to your child.”

The Giant kept his gaze for a long while, then took a steadying breath and nodded. Loki doubted the Jötunn was satisfied, but it was the best she could hope for.

“I will go.”

“No,” Valkyrie cut in. “No, this is stupid. We can’t send them off to be locked up by some two-bit space thugs! I don’t care how mysteriously Loki smirks at us, this is fucking stupid!”

“Have you a better plan?” Thor asked, his voice gravely with weariness.

“No. But--”

“Then we do not have time to discuss this further. Loki, you must still disguise the rations.”

Valkyrie hissed as Thor turned his back on her.

“Yes,” Loki said, “send word to my quarters when they have been sequestered away. I have to pack my supplies.”

Thor nodded. His eyes lingered on his brother, a deep frown in place, but whatever he was thinking he did not say.

“Muthrun. The Ergons will board within the hour. Will you be ready?”

“Yes.” The ice along her shoulders was melting, and she said no more as she returned to her child’s side.

“Thor!” Valkyrie shouted, but she had nothing else to argue with. She turned her raging glare on Loki, then spun away with a sharp roar, marching for the exit. She did not look back as she left.

 

~~~

 

Loki had returned to his quarters as Thor prepared for the intruders. His closet door lent against the wall, still warped and dented from his rage three nights prior, though he’d cleared away the glass.

_Wasn’t there a time when he’d prided himself on a level head?_

Blast it all! What was he doing?

Loki had plenty of experience pretending to be captured. (Sometimes it wasn’t pretend.) Infiltration, playing decoy, disguises and duplicity: it was his speciality. He’d saved his own skin, and Thor’s, on more than one occasion by playing helpless captive.

He’d never done it for a Jötunn.

He didn’t have much time, the crew would soon need him to glamour the stolen supplies and then he’d have to be in position for the Ergons’ arrival. He had to work quickly.

Loki swept up his spare clothes and Sakaaran garb. They joined his collection of knives and daggers, the ritual mat and spell ingredients, and his small store of stolen nutri-bars. He’d swipe a few more, and some water canisters, when he was called to hide the ship’s rations. He wasn’t certain how long he’d be gone; best to be prepared.

Loki surveyed the room. It was as miserable as ever.

He’d known the Jötnar had stolen the food supplies, but he hadn’t expected those they’d stolen from would bother to chase them down. But even had Loki anticipated this, he'd have had no qualms turning the Giants over to the wronged party. Executed first, of course, to keep the Jötnar from talking.

But now here he was, risking his neck for the frozen bastards!

A knock at his door accompanied by muffled words drew Loki’s attention. He lowered the auditory wards in time to catch the last of it. “--are ready for your help.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be there in a moment,” he called, and reinstated the sound guards.

One last thing to do.

Loki knelt and summoned a stick of charcoal, drawing a quick circle of protection and unsight on the floor of his closet. It was rough and wouldn’t ward against careful scrutiny, but would do well to disrupt any scrying for a few days, perhaps a week.

With a careful breath, Loki drew forth the Tesseract and placed it within the circle. Immediately, The Cube grew dull, blending into the dusky background of the closet. It still glowed, though one’s eye was no longer drawn to the sight. The Infinity Stone now held all the distinction of a dust mote.

Good.

He'd rather keep the cube with him, keep it tucked away and close at hand, but he needed it here, in the ship. The Tesseract was too powerful, too unwieldy, to be used as transport without a device to control it. It was simple enough to ride its rivers to whatever location it sat in, The Cube was like a whirlpool that way, drawing in those who got caught in its currents. But opening a portal elsewhere required a great deal of calculations and protections to keep one from burning up. Such was why he'd needed that mortal scientist, Selvig, to build his portal device. Without it, Loki could never have opened the way for the Chitauri. And now, without such a machine, Loki's only choice was to leave The Tesseract here to be used as a doorway back.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the transverse medallion. It had lost most of its charge when he’d transported himself and Juri. Loki closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing energy from the Tesseract and tying it again to the medallion. The metal grew ice-hot in his palm, twisting with the foreign power, straining to snap out of his hand and rejoin The Cube.

He banished it to his pocket dimension, shaking out his hand. The already blistered skin of his palm tingled unpleasantly.

_What was he doing?_

They were _Frost Giants!_ They were beasts of burden, savage scoundrels, stupid backwards creatures with all the worth of a muddy rock! He and Thor had spent centuries exterminating them, rooting out the stragglers on Midgard. They’d made it into a sport, a competition to see who could slay them the fastest, the sneakiest, the most creative. The Warriors Three and Sif sometimes joined, too. They’d track the beasts down to their lairs and burned them out, laughed as the creatures squealed, and stuck them like pigs.

It had been fun. It had been righteous. They were monsters needing slaying. Simple. Easy.

And then Juri came along and ruined it all by being a _person._

Another knock at his door.

“Coming!”

Loki stood, brushing dust from his trousers, then wrenched open his bedroom door to glare at the crew member outside.

“Sorry, Sire.”

Loki let the door slide shut behind him, locking it with four separate spells of warding. He would have done more, but he hadn't the time.

“Well?” he demanded. “Lead the way.”

The servant stumbled a bow then hurried down the hall. Loki followed, anxiety swelling in his chest.

He had an escape plan, a way back to the ship once the Ergons had sailed far enough away. They wouldn’t be able to confiscate the transverse medallion from his dimensional pocket. He needed only stay alive long enough to retrieve it and activate it. Stay alive and… and keep Muthrun alive, too.

He owed Juri that much.

 

~~~

 

Valkyrie was pacing the length of the small room (recently christened the ship’s holding cell). Loki very much wanted her to stop, but she had only started ranting at him when last he’d voiced that desire. Muthrun was ignoring her, and him, and the meager chains binding her wrists. She gazed blankly at the wall opposite. Loki wasn’t sure if she was meditating or just extremely good at faking braindead boredom. Either way, the Giant hadn’t moved in nearly thirty minutes and that was nearly as annoying as Brunnhilde's pacing.

He felt sick.

“We should be fighting!” Valkyrie announced. Again.

“Do feel free.”

There was ice building up on his shackles. He flicked his wrists, frozen shards shedding into his lap. He wished it would ruddy _stop_ but the situation had him on edge and the frost just kept forming. Mostly on his bare shoulders and down his arms, but the leather of his trousers was growing stiff from the cold.

“This is your fault!”

“Of course it is,” Loki muttered. Muthrun wasn’t shedding ice. He _knew_ she was upset. How was she keeping it under control?

“We can take them! We outnumber them. An hour, tops, we’d have their surrender.”

Muthrun’s voice rumbled to life though she remained unmoving. “They would open fire and destroy your ship.”

Valkyrie ignored her, preferring to rant at Loki.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart! Thor’s always going on about how clever and slippery you are. So what in Bor’s ass is this?” She flung her hands out, gesturing at Loki’s chains. “What exactly is your plan here? You gonna kiss their butts until they promote you to captain? This isn’t Sakaar, your pretty face doesn’t mean squat to an Ergon!”

“Aw,” Loki cooed. “You think I’m pretty?” It was a joke, but he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. He knew he wasn’t pretty like this.

“Shut up, Lackey. I’m being serious. Those guys are vicious. You’d be _lucky_ if they kill you right off! Ergons like to play with their food first.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” He’d survived plenty worse than whatever these halfwits might concoct.

“Norns’ tits! You’re worse than Thor!” She stopped her pacing by his side and grabbed one of his horns, jerking his head this way and that as she shouted in his ear. “They. Will. Kill. You!”

“Get off!” He shouldered her away and she stepped back, outside his frozen reach.

“You’re running off to be tortured and murdered and none of us will be there to help you, you jackass!”

The room fell silent. Loki shifted, shrugging ice from his shoulders. Norns, he hated this bloody ice.

Brunnhilde sighed and resumed her pacing.

“I’m not going to die.”

“No one thinks they will until they do.”

“I’m _not_ stupid, Brunnhilde.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I’m not.”

She spun to glare at him.

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I will come back. Alive. And probably with all my limbs.” He glanced at Muthrun, who was watching him from the corner of her lidded gaze. “We both will.”

The Giant hmm’ed. She didn’t sound convinced.

“How?” Valkyrie asked.

“A sorcerer never shares his secrets,” Loki grinned.

She scoffed. “You know, you’re not half as funny as you think you are.”

A series of beeps and the door slid open, two Asgardian guards leading the Ergon boarding party into the room. There were five of the reptilian creatures, snouts pulled into snarls. Loki stumbled to his feet, the movement awkward with his hands bound. Muthrun remained sitting, eyes fixed on nothing.

“The prisoners,” one of the Ás guards announced. His gaze flickered to Loki, then quickly away, unable to look upon his blue skin.

Loki bit his tongue.

The Ergon’s leader shouldered it’s way passed the guards. “Where are our supplies?” it growled.

“We sold them,” Loki said, affecting an air of unconcern.

The Ergon hissed, it’s spines rattling. “The credits, then.”

“Spent.”

“On what?!”

He shrugged. “Whores.”

Loki just caught sight of Valkyrie’s irritated glare before the Ergon’s fist connected with his face.

“Whores?” The Ergon roared, hauling Loki up by a horn. “That was six hundred and seventy million credits worth of supplies! How could you have spent all of it whores?!”

Six hundred million credits? Did they take him for a fool? Those rations were, at most, worth ten thousand. Even a master negotiator couldn't hope for anything more. Did the Ergon think it could bluff some extra credits out of Loki’s empty pockets?

The red menace didn’t look like it was joking, and Loki didn’t think arguing would calm its temper. Well, if he was going to get beat anyway, he might as well earn it.

Loki licked blood from his lip and grinned. “They were very talented whores.”

The Ergon slammed Loki’s head into the floor and followed up with a clawed foot to his ribs.

“Tell me where my money is, you frozen wretch!”

“Enough!” Thor’s voice cut into the room. “You will not attack bound prisoners on my ship.”

Loki could see only Thor’s boots from between the legs of the various people crammed into the small room. His brother stood in the doorway, stance wide.

The Ergon leader spat. “We do not take orders from you, hairbag.”

“It is my ship, my rules.”

“Big words.” The creature rolled it’s shoulders, it’s spines clacking, but turned to its henchmen. “Clorthis, Varmik, Traumit, get the prisoners up. We’re leaving.”

Three of the Ergons stepped forward, heavy gloves protecting their clawed hands from Jötunn skin. Two flanked Muthrun, who stood without protest, the third, Traumit, yanked Loki to his feet and pushed him out the door.

Thor stepped aside as Loki and his captor waited for Muthrun to maneuver into the hall. He was staring at Loki, at Loki’s true form.

Thor had never seen him like this.

His gaze flicked across Loki’s blue skin, face tight. He studied him like Loki was something alien, something unsettling. When he noticed Loki’s raised brow he broke away, unable to meet the red of Loki's eyes. All his talk of brotherhood and now, with the truth of it laid bare and shameful, Thor couldn’t so much as withstand the sight of his dear, beloved brother.

Loki sneered.

“March!” the leader barked and Loki’s minder shoved him.

As he was lead down the hall Aesir onlookers watched the procession, eyes raking across Loki’s exposed flesh, all of them unabashed in their staring. All except Thor, who only studied his own boots as Loki rounded the corner.


	16. In Which Questions Are Asked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are content warnings for this chapter. See end notes for specifics.

“In there,” the leader, Captain Kormat, indicated a set of thick doors at the end of the hall. It’s minions shoved Loki and Muthrun towards the bowels of the ship, jabbing them with electrified batons when they didn’t walk fast enough. The Ergon craft was all curves and asymmetrical designs. The ceiling swept lower on one side than the other and the light fixtures were placed at random along the walls and baseboards, casting strange shadows across the floors. A door was as likely to open into a broom closet as a ship bay. If there was a method to the madness Loki hadn’t figured it out yet.

They were led to a long hold lined with cages. Gray-green ungulates bleated at the procession passing by, their splayed hooves clattering on the cell’s mesh floor. The beasts’ waste collected in troughs below, the reek of offal mingling with breath in the stale air. Loki guessed the Ergons kept cattle for the voyage, a source of fresh meat for long trips. It would seem the cages doubled as jail cells.

They were shown to the largest cage, sat at the end of the walkway. Loki still had to duck to enter the cell, his horns brushing the steel doorway. Muthrun was forced to hunch, unable to stand fully once within. She settled into a kneel, an awkward maneuver with her hands still bound as they were. Her shoulders brushed against Loki as she sat and he did his best to put distance between them, though there wasn’t much room in which to do so.

Across the aisle, the charred corpse of what may have been a Xandaran lay prone within its cell. It reached for freedom between cage bars with an arm cut short at the elbow.

Loki cleared his throat and addressed the Captain. “Well then, might I ask your plans for us?”

Kormat ran its tongue between pointed teeth. “That depends. Where is my money?”

“Quite gone.”

“I do hope that’s a lie. For your sake.” The Ergon let the door slide closed, a pneumatic lock thunking into place. “Tell me where my supplies went and, when we get to Vertex, I will show you mercy. Otherwise,” Kormat surveyed the cattle hold. “Well, we _are_ low on rations. I’ll let you think on my offer.”

And with that, the Ergons left.

The dim ceiling lights cast deep shadows over Muthrun’s face, her eyes only a small glint beneath darkened brows. Loki turned to pace and made it a total of one and a half steps before he had to turn. He sighed and slid to the floor.

“Is this part of the plan?” Muthrun rumbled.

Loki flinched, glancing at the oddly patterned walls. Though the hold clearly wasn’t designed to be a jail, Loki wouldn’t be surprised to discover they were being watched. With a subtle flick of his wrist he cast a muffling charm. It should garble their speech enough to confuse any microphones.

“Yes,” he hissed. “We need to wait until we’re decently far from Asgard’s vessel. If we escape now, they’ll assume we’ve returned to our ship.”

“Hm. And when we do escape,” she still didn’t sound convinced they would, “where will we escape to?”

“Back to our ship,” Loki smirked. “I’ve a way to return. We only need be sure they won’t go looking for us there. I would say… three days. They’ll have made it through the nearest jumpgate by then. That should be enough time and distance to allay suspicions.”

Loki sent his seiðr into his pocket dimension, mentally checking on the imbued amulet. He could feel the shape of it alongside his clothes, ritual mat, and pilfered rations.

“Three days,” Muthrun murmured. “Let us hope you are so confident after three days.”

 

~~~

 

They had turned on the heat.

Loki was doing his best to remain calm, collected, but his hair was slick with sweat and his mouth dry. The cell bars were hot to the touch, as was the mesh floor, and Loki found himself alternating between kneeling and balancing on the balls of his feet to keep contact with the metal as small as possible. The skin of his palms, still burnt from the Tesseract’s backlash, throbbed and the chains about his wrists rubbed the skin raw. It wasn’t a dry heat, either, the air heavy with the moisture of their breaths, so his sweat clung to him sticky and wet. Even the cattle were growing listless, bleating moreossly as they panted into damp heat.

He could change. He could change to his Ás form and be in relative comfort. He could shift to a snake and bask in the heat with pleasure. He could change.

He glanced to Muthrun, sitting cross legged with eyes closed. The hulking giant took up nearly a third of their tiny cell, unmoving except for the deep rise and fall of her chest, ignoring Loki’s fidgeting.

How was she so calm in this heat when Loki could barely think straight? How could she be so unconcerned? He’d been trying to match her, drawing on his discipline as a warrior of Asgard, as a survivor of things best forgotten.

But dammit, it was hot!

“Screw it.”

Loki shifted to his Ás form and collapsed to the floor with a groan, the air blessedly… well, not cool, per se, but less cloying.

“They will not treat you kindly if they know of your talents.”

“I know.”

Loki pulled forth a jug of water from his dimensional pocket and took a swig. He glanced to Muthrun. She watched him from one half-lidded eye but didn’t ask for any charity. He offered anyway and she took it without thanks.

“It has been less than a day,” she said, handing the jug back. Loki took another sip before banishing it.

“I know. I’m fine. I’ll handle it.”

“You truly know nothing of yourself.”

Loki growled, pushing himself up. “This is hardly the worst I’ve endured.”

“You needn’t endure it so harshly.”

“What do you mean?”

Muthrun didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a deep breath, holding it, and letting it go with slow control. The air rippled with heat from between her lips.

“Thermotaugy is the manipulation and redistribution of heat. Or did you think us only capable of creating ice?”

He opened his mouth to reply but found he hadn’t anything to say.

 _Thermotaugy._ Of course it was heat magic, it was in the bloody name! He knew that! He just… hadn’t thought of the Jötunn's natural magics in that light. They created ice by drawing heat into themselves, it only figured they could do the opposite as well. Muthrun had spent the past several hours drawing the heat of her body into her lungs to expel it with her breaths whilst Loki had been sitting in his own misery.

Loki scowled. “So, what you’re saying is you’ve been heating the room even further with your every exhale.” It sounded like whining even to his own ears.

“Yes,” Muthrun said. “I have.”

Loki was in the middle of devising a snarky comeback when the door to the hold clunked open. He quickly shifted back to his Jötunn form, bones twinging with the speed of his change, before the Ergons drew close enough to see.

_Ugh, it felt like a damn sauna._

One of the Ergons, Varmik, bent to the lock’s eye scanner. With a blip, the door slid open. It straightened and pointed to Muthrun. “You. Come with us.”

Muthrun grumbled but obeyed, her knees popping as she rolled into a crouch and shuffled through the too-small door. Varmik sent a cruel smile at Loki as it keyed the door closed again.

“Don’t worry, you’re next.”

When he was sure they wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, Loki shifted back to Ás form.

How well would Muthrun hold up? She was a warrior, she would be no stranger to pain. But the pain of a cut or a break could hardly compare to the ministrations of a skilled sadist. Would she cave? Would she tell them where the supplies truly were? Doom all of Asgard to starve for her own release?

No. No, she wouldn’t. She mustn’t. Not if she cared for her child. And though Loki had few favorable things to say about the Giant, he could not deny the loyalty she showed for Juri.

The love.

Loki sighed. It would be his turn next. He could handle it. He would endure it. Just three days. Three days for Asgard. For Thor.

For his sins.

 

~~~

 

Muthrun was still gone when they came for him, all toothy grins and snarls. They dragged him to his feet, hands protected from his frost by thick gloves, and prodded him with their electrified batons down hallways and corridors, passed maintenance rooms and crew quarters. The room to which they lead him was large and round, with catwalks ringing the walls. A number of Ergons watched from above as Loki was brought to the center of the room and his shackles hitched to a chain hanging from the distant ceiling. Another chain was wrapped around his ankles and looped through a grommet in the floor. Along the edges of the open space were machines and training equipment, weapons and weights.

An exercise room, then. Well, while he doubted this was going to pleasant, it was a good sign the brutes didn’t have a room dedicated solely to torture.

Someone in the catwalks pulled the chain tight, until Loki was standing on his toes.

“He’s here? Good.”

Loki shifted to look over his shoulder. Captain Kormat approached him from behind, flicking blood from its gloved claws. The crimson fluids were lost in the ruddy lighting of the arena. An assistant followed with a large, metal case.

Kormat spoke, “The other one, your daddy, is it?” It came round to stand a pace in front of Loki, it’s eye a burnished gold, cruel and calm. “Stubborn as he is ugly. Took an hour just to get him to scream.” The Ergon leaned forward, spines twitching. “But we had some fun after that.”

Loki met the creature’s eyes, unflinching. It snorted, stale breath washing over his nose, and straighten again, a head shorter than Loki but twice as wide. It crooked its finger at its assistant, who set the case down, clicking open its top.

Kormat selected a thin, chrome rod from within. With the flick of a switch the tip began to glow, first red but brightening to yellow, then white.

“Now,” the Ergon said, bringing the tool around to hover just below Loki’s jaw, the heat uncomfortable even without touching. “I want to know where my money is. Where have you squirreled it away? Where do you have your accounts?”

“Accounts?” Loki scoffed. “If we had accounts do you think we’d be stealing candy bars?”

“Don’t play with me,” Kormat growled. “I had three hundred pounds of Kree dream powder hidden throughout those crates. Who did you sell it to and for how much?”

Dream powder? Oh. Oh, that explained the occasional ‘spoiled’ bar the cooks had to toss, the ones sending people to the healers with cases of sudden illness and hallucinations. It also explained the Ergon’s determination in tracking down the Jötunn thieves. If even just one bar per crate was smuggled stash, the total would be worth a fortune.

“Ah,” Loki said. “I was wondering why you were so cross about this whole thing.”

The Ergon’s heavy brow creased.

“We thought those grayish bars were simply spoiled. Sold them and the rest for five hundred credits and a new pair of cloak pins back on Vertex.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

Loki closed his eyes against the spray of spittle as the Ergon raged.

“Five hu-- Five _hundred_ credits?! You traded it all for five hundred measly credits?! You damn moron!”

A sudden sting in his shoulder had Loki looking down to find the heated rod protruding just above his collarbone. The sting quickly began to burn and Loki could see the bubbling of boiling blood as the device cooked the muscle beneath. He struggled to pull himself up, to bring his chest level with his bound hands and pull the rod free but the chains about his feet had little more than an inch of slack, keeping him stretched and dangling from his shackles.

Desperate, he bent to pull it out with his teeth, but the Ergon yanked on his hair, bending him backwards as far as his bindings would allow. Ice crackled as it formed along his arms, crawled up his chains and the Ergon’s gloved hand. Varmik twisted a cable around Loki’s neck, looping it through another grommet in the floor behind him and pulling it firm. His shoulders ached with the strain of his bent position and the flesh around the rod continued to sizzle.

It smelled like roast.

“Who did you sell it to?”

Loki grunted.

Kormat tore out the rod. Loki hissed as it took bits of his burnt skin with it.

“Who!?”

Loki swallowed, his Adam’s apple catching on the cord about his throat. “A trader. On Vertex.”

“Which one?” Kormat shoved the rod against the base of Loki’s spine. The creature must have jammed it into one of Loki’s ley lines because white pain snaked through his back and down his left leg.

Loki groaned through his teeth until the pain let up, then, “If-if I tell you,” he panted, “what then?”

“Then you’d better pray they still have the goods.”

“That’s it?” Loki asked. “We fly back to Vertex, find your drugs, and my friend and I go free?”

The Ergon paused. “Yes.”

Loki laughed. “You are a terrible liar.” His laughter turned to gagging when Kormat yanked the cord about his neck.

“Do you want to die, ice-beast?”

Not particularly, but Loki had no breath to say as much.

“You will tell me who you dealt with and, if your information proves useful, I will see to it that upon reaching Vertex you are sold to a fair and merciful master. If not, then I will ask again...” Kormat punctuated this by drawing the heated rod along a ley line on Loki’s ribs, sizzling as it cooked his skin. “And again…” Fire rushed along the magical currents of Loki’s body, razors tearing at him from the inside out, radiating along his side, filling his lungs, burning up his neck, across his belly and down his thighs.

He came back to himself, slumped backwards, the room swimming in a receding darkness.

“So,” the Ergon said, “which merchant?”

 

~~~

  


Loki had made up a Kivik merchant for the Ergons to chase. Even using jump gates, it would take several weeks to return to Vertex station. Loki didn’t intend to stick around that long.

Muthrun had been returned their cell by the time the Ergons had been done with Loki. She was slumped against the back wall, blood staining the bars. It looked as if the Ergons had taken a knife to nearly every ley line on her stomach and chest. Judging by the discoloration of the wounds, he suspected the knives had been followed with other substances.

Loki slid to the floor as the cell door thunked shut, the Ergons jeering as they left the hold. Muthrun eyed him, eyed the weeping welt on his shoulder and the burns along his side, his wounds nothing compared to hers.

Loki cast a muffling charm, but it fizzled out before it could take hold. He shook his head, tried again, and this time managed to keep his concentration long enough to let it set.

“Did you,” Loki swallowed, his mouth dry, “did you tell them anything?

“No.”

He nodded. “I did.”

A muscle in the Giant’s neck twitched.

“Lies, of course,” he assured her. “Told them we sold the rations for five hundred credits and some jewelry.”

She quirked a brow. The rations were worth more than that, even without the hidden drugs.

Loki shrugged. “I didn’t want them thinking we were holding out on them. Four hundred credits paid to board the S.S. Asgard--”

“And one hundred on whores.” It was difficult to tell with Muthrun’s typical monotone, but Loki suspected the comment was meant to be sardonic.

“Yes, and whores.”

Muthrun shook her head. “And when they discover your lies?”

“I don’t plan to here when they do. We’ve two days more. After that, we’ll be gone.”

 

~~~

 

They dragged Loki from his cell the next day.

“You lied to me.”

Kormat circled Loki where he hung, toes barely brushing the arena’s floor. They had stripped him of his trousers, leaving him only his undergarments. Kormat’s golden eyes studied his bared flesh, seeking out those places most vulnerable.

“My men on Vertex checked every level, every ledger. There is no Kivik merchant by the name of Ar Astley.”

Ah, Kormat had men still on Vertex. Great, that was… just great. Loki had to think fast.

“So I want you to tell me again who you sold our wares to.”

The Ergon took a large knife to the ley line that curved from Loki’s left shoulder to the soft inner skin of his upper arm. The blade was sharp enough that he didn’t feel the initial cut. He did, however, feel it when Kormat dug his finger into the wound.

Loki thrashed and tried to pull away, but could get no purchase on the floor.

“Stop!” Loki shouted, “Stop, stop! I told you the truth!” He knew the Ergon wouldn’t believe that, but he needed to give a convincing show before he ‘broke.’

“Are you sure?” The Ergon switched out his knife for a canister of some sort of cleaning solution, spraying it into the open wound.

This time, when he screamed, it was sincere. The blistering pain radiated up and down his arm, following the patterns of his ley lines, locking the muscles in his shoulder. It seared and sizzled until the flesh grew dead to the sensation. The fingers of his right hand tingled on the edge of numbness, the flow of seiðr dying before it could reach them.

Oh, that wasn’t good, that wasn’t… Damn Jötunn flesh! What backwards biology advertised its weaknesses so blatantly?

“I-I-I’m not lying! I’m not!” Loki shouted as the Ergon raised the canister again. “M-maybe I got the name wrong. It was something like Astley. Athlem? Artham?”

“We checked,” Kormat growled. “There are seven Kivik merchants on Vertex, none of them have our wares.”

“It was a Kivik! It was-- ARGH!”

The Ergon sliced a ley line along his thigh, spraying the solvent as he went. Loki’s leg spasmed and went limp, dropping his weight onto his bound wrists. The wound in his arm stretched, sending a new wave of pain throughout the limb.

“Please!” he panted, and the desperation in his voice was more real than he’d like. “It was, it wasn’t--”

Shit, he needed something that sounded convincing and would take time to prove wrong.

“Wasn’t what?”

“I can’t, please. If I tell you they’ll kill me!”

“I assure you,” the Ergon said, grabbing one of Loki’s horns and dragging his head down as far as his chains would allow. “You’re no safer betraying me.”

“I was-- there’s a family on Vertex. Powerful. They said if we stole your wares they’d help us escape.”

“Which family?”

“I-- I can’t--” Loki had no idea what petty mobs ran the station.

“Tell me!”

The Ergon yanked down on Loki’s horn and raised it’s knife. A crack, and suddenly the torque on Loki’s neck let up and he fell back, blinking. What had happened?

“Which one?! The Peravians? Kikarum? Who?”

"I-- uh…”

Something dripped into his eye. Blood. What was bleeding? His head hurt.

“Was it Zeramith?” The Ergon was waving something beneath Loki’s nose. Not the knife, it was… Oh, his horn. It was, the Ergon had one of his horns.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Zera--Zermith… I, uhh…”

Oh, now he felt it. Like someone had driven a spike into his forehead, methodically digging through the bone.

“Dammit!” The Ergon threw Loki’s severed horn to the floor. It clattered about before bouncing to a stop some yards away, a spray of blood painting its path.

That was… that wasn’t supposed to come off. He felt hot, he felt… he...

“Who was your contact? What did they say?”

It took a moment for Loki to realize the Ergon was talking to him, but Kormat lost patience before he could answer.

“Useless,” Kormat snarled. “You,” it pointed to one of its henchmen, “get Lieutenant Forik on the line. And you,” he pointed to another, “secure us a jump pass for gate 8-23-A. I don’t care what it costs!”

Before their captain could storm off, Varmik asked, “what should I do with the prisoner?”

“Throw him in the cell! I’ll have more questions when he recovers.”

 

~~~

 

It took several minutes for Loki to find his footing, the pain in his skull twisting his balance. The numbing wound in his right thigh left his foot leaden, he couldn’t feel when it made contact and he stumbled as the ankle collapsed. The Ergons grumbled, irritated to be supporting his weight, and were glad to be rid of him when they arrived at the cell, shoving him inside. His hands bound, they did little to catch his fall as he slammed into the floor.

The door clicked shut, the sounds of the Ergon’s retreating voices muffled by bleating cattle.

Loki groaned.

“This is why you bind your horns to grow flat,” Muthrun said from her corner.

“Shut up.”

His broken horn bled sluggishly, leaving sticky trails down his brow and matting the hair of his temple. The pain throbbed with each heartbeat, the hot pressure digging along the orbit of his eye and causing his vision to darken with the beat. He pushed himself to sit up, struggling as his left arm spasmed and his wrist went weak. The throbbing worsened with the effort and Loki was forced to catch his breath before attempting anything else, then he shifted to his Ás form.

And nearly blacked out.

“What are you doing?” Muthrun was in front of him, propping him up with one rough hand.

“Ah, nuh…” Well, that wasn’t what he’d intended to say.

“You’ve a hole in your head.” Red eyes filled his vision, so red. “Shift back.”

_What?_

“Shift.”

Cold, cold from those hands and he was… He…?

“Can you hear me?”

“I--? Yes. Yes. What happened?”

Muthrun sat back on her haunches, one hand holding him steady. He was Jötunn again. Had he fainted?

_How embarrassing._

“Your horn,” Muthrun said, “they cut it near the base, through the living bone. When you shifted, the wound deepened into your skull.”

“Nng…”

And that rather summed up his feelings on the matter. He should have guessed that would happen. He should have, but he just wanted the throbbing to stop. It built and built, digging deeper into his marrow with the pumping of his blood.

He lifted his bound hands to probe the broken edges, smooth where the knife had entered, rough and splintered on the other side.

Muthrun caught his hands before he could feel the pulp within, “don’t touch that.”

“There’s pressure,” Loki explained. “I think something’s stuck in there. I need--”

“No,” Muthrun said, jerking his hands back down. “It’s inflamed. And the nerves are exposed.”

Loki hissed, trying to wriggle free, but he was small and dizzy.

“Stop. Hold still.”

She lifted her hand to the side of his face, thumb and forefinger resting on the edges of his broken stump. Loki stilled, aware how close she was to the open wound. A chill spread from her hand, seeping into the blinding burn. He choked, the sensation stinging at first, but soon the throbbing dulled and the pain ebbed into a manageable ache. A small gasp of relief escaped him before he could compose himself.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

Muthrun kept her hand where it was, a steady stream of merciful cold, as she resettled herself against the wall beside him.

“It has been two days, by my guess,” she said.

“They’ll be jumping through a gate soon. We can can make our move then.”

“Hm.”

Loki closed his eyes. He felt feverish. Or perhaps that was just the heat of the prison.

“Thank you.” His words were quiet, and he wasn’t sure Muthrun had heard, until:

“You deserve this.” It was a statement of fact, no emotion behind it.

“‘You’re welcome’ usually suffices,” Loki deadpanned.

“You took Juri’s place in this, and for that I will help you. But do not mistake my mercy for forgiveness. Juri does not deserve to be here. You do.”

Loki took a deep breath— and let it go.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: torture.


	17. In which plans are hatched and smashed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter in the end notes.

_Wake up._

“Nuh.”

“Wake up!”

Loki came to with a jerk and a hiss. Ugh, everything hurt.

“They’ve jumped. It’s time to escape.”

“We’ve jumped? Are you sure?” Loki blinked, rubbing the base of his broken horn. It ached, but not terribly so. His arm and leg, though, felt as if someone had taken a hot iron and dragged it down their lengths. The heat of the room didn’t help.

“Yes,” Muthrun said, “we did. I am surprised it did not wake you.”

“I’ve had a busy day,” he drawled.

Muthrun shifted and Loki suddenly realized he was tucked against her side, her arm wrapped about him. He tried to hide his startle, pulling away to stand. She said nothing as his leg buckled, nor did she help steady him as he regained his balance. He took a moment to smooth his hair, his back to the Giant. He almost wished she’d say something so he could get properly angry instead of embarrassed.

“Right,” he coughed. Loki once more spun a muffling charm, the incessant bleating of their stink-ridden neighbors turning to a dull grumble as the sound barrier settled in place. He had to struggle to make the charm complete, his seiðr still moving poorly through his injured left arm. Summoning the amulet from his dimensional pocket, he held it between the two of them. It glowed a faint blue from between the welded seams. “We must be in contact and I will need to foccus. The amulet will call like to like and take us from here.” To his room. His very tiny room. This was going to be rather cramped.

“Is there anything I must do?” Muthrun asked, reaching out to grasp the medallion gently between thumb and finger.

“No, though it wouldn’t hurt for you to hold the destination in your mind’s eye. The amulet wants to leave and will drag us along with it. I only need to give it a little nudge.”

Muthrun nodded her understanding and waited.

Loki closed his eyes and _pushed,_ willing the medallion to fall into the place between places, into the river of the Tesseract’s power.

Nothing happened.

Loki opened his eyes. The amulet sat, unchanged, still glowing softly. Muthrun watched him, unblinking.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just a moment.”

He tried again, shoving his will against the sleepy magic. It rippled, shifting, before becoming dormant once more.

“Dammit!”

Why wasn’t it working?

Loki pulled the amulet from Muthrun’s grip, turning it this way and that. Nothing was different, nothing seemed wrong. And yet it was wrong! What was wrong?!

“It should work!” He said. “It’s charged, it’s ready, so why won’t it activate?”

Muthrun gave a rumbling sigh.

“It should work!”

“We are very far away,” she said. “Perhaps too far.”

“No!” Loki shouted. “I’ve used this method from the very edges of the cosmos! There is no range limit. It’s something else. And it’s not the amulet; the amulet is fine. There must be some interference, something blocking us from accessing the Cube’s energies. Perhaps this ship’s shields or a--”

_Oh, damn._

“Or someone found the Cube.” Loki felt dizzy all of a sudden. He slid to the floor. “My brother found the Cube.”

“What is the Cube and why does it matter if he has it?”

“The Cube is-- it’s the artifact I’ve been using to charge the ship’s cells.” Loki banished the amulet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “It’s an object of immense power. Destructive power. The first thing Thor would do when he found it is lock it behind wards so no one might use it. The bloody idiot!”

Loki surged to his feet again, stumbled, but recovered and began to pace. The cramped space of their prison made the activity far less cathartic than he’d like.

“He did not know you had it?”

“Of course not!”

“Why?”

“Were you not listening? Because if he knew I had it, he’d have taken it away and locked it up!”

“And now,” Muthrun rumbled, “because you did not tell him, _we_ are locked up.”

“Oh, yes! Isn’t the irony lovely? Truly, let’s take a moment to bask in its light, shall we?”

Loki went to slide his hands through his hair, but jerked back when he brushed against the exposed pulp of his horn. The light touch sent a stab of pain into his skull and his left eye.

“Norns damn it all!” He quickly cupped the throbbing stomp, drawing heat from it until the pain numbed.

Muthrun sighed, letting her head fall back against the prison bars.

“Don’t give me that,” Loki said, pointing at her with one hand, the other still cooling his horn. “I’ll think of something.” He threw back his head and shouted, "Heimdall! Heimdall, tell Thor to release the Cube!” The watchmen would hear him, even with the muffling charm, even out here so far away. The question was whether or not he would listen.

“You may wish to be quick,” Muthrun said. “The guards approach.”

Loki Loki's breath stuck in his throat. He ducked down, peering through the rows of cages to the hold's entrance. Two guards strolled down the way, accompanied by the excited bleating of hungry cattle. Loki doubted they were here for to serve the livestock their dinner.

Dammit. The Ergons would want to know more about their supplies. Where he’d sold them and who precisely his contact had been. There was only so much he could say without revealing his ignorance of Vertex’s politics and layout. And staying mum would be decidedly unpleasant.

He needed to get out, to escape. The Tesseract might be closed to him, but he was hardly helpless. He was seven feet of ice and fury, a warrior of Asgard, and a god. If he couldn’t disappear unnoticed then he would force his way out with fire.

“Muthrun,” Loki said, “keep their attention for a time.”

The red of her eyes turned to slits. “What are you planning?”

“They’ve escape pods on this vessel, surely.”

She nodded. “On the second level. Near the living quarters.”

Loki blinked, surprised. “You’ve seen them?”

“I was not a prisoner when first I boarded this ship.”

The Ergons were nearly upon them, three cages down, grinning, the sound of their laughter distant behind Loki’s spellwork. Only seconds left.

“Draw them in,” Loki whispered, pulling a spell of invisibility over his form and dropping the muffling charm, “I’ll explain after.”

He stepped to the side, pushing himself against the wall of the cell as the Ergons arrived. He could sense their energies through the blindness of invisibility, their eager presence turning to confusion.

“Where’s the little one?” It was Vermik, irritation beginning to broil beneath its aura.

“I know not,” Muthrun said, voice even as ever, though Loki could feel her presence searching for his. He doubted she was doing so consciously, but he let his seiðr brush against hers all the same. He could feel her start, then ease, at his touch.

“You don’t know?” Varmik asked. It stepped into the cell, its twitching spines passing a hair’s breadth from Loki’s nose. He could hear the Ergon’s baton crackle with electricity as it bore down on Muthrun. “How can you not know? Where did he go?!”

The other Ergon, Clorthis, stood just outside the cell, leaning forward to search within. Loki could feel its presence like a pressure, the slight heat of its body and life force pushing against him as he edged closer. He summoned a dagger from his pocket dimension, raising his bound hands above his head.

“I woke and zhe was not here.”

“That’s not possible!”

He sought out the pulsing life currents in Clorthis’ neck, a blinding brightness in the dark.

“Tell me where he is!”

Suddenly, Clorthis’ energies changed to that of surprise. It raised it’s bulky head and sniffed the air, a slight confusion bleeding into its aura.

Damn, Loki hadn’t thought to cover his sent.

“Sir…”

He didn’t give it time to speak, leaping at Clorthis and letting his spell drop, plunging his dagger into the beast’s thick neck. Its howl filled the hold, the livestock joining in chorus, but the Ergon didn’t go down immediately. It backhanded Loki in the jaw, flinging him to the cell floor.

Varmik turned at its companion’s wail, raising its baton with a shout of surprise. A foolish mistake. Muthrun brought her shackled hands over the Ergon’s head, pinning its arms with her own as she crushed it to her chest. The beast screeched as its flesh froze, darkening from red to black and splintering as it struggled. It maneuvered its baton, jabbing Muthrun in the gut, but the electricity only tightened her grip as her muscles locked.

Clorthis pawed at the blade in its throat, panicking as its lifeblood splashed into the waste troughs below. Loki summoned his second knife, waiting for an opening, but needn’t have bothered. The idiot creature yanked the blade from its neck. With no obstructions, the artery bled freely, red cascading down the Ergon’s shoulders and chest. Within moments, it had stumbled to the floor, wide eyes slowly losing focus. Muthrun’s own victim shortly followed with a crunch.

“I don’t know whether to be irritated or impressed that it managed to smell me over the stink of this place,” Loki picked his way towards the gurgling Clorthis, fishing his blade out from under its heavy body.

“You’ve not bathed for a while.”

“Well, neither have they,” he gestured to the bleating livestock. Their neighbors had scrambled to the far ends of their cages, spooked by the noise and blood. “Though, I grant you, I am looking forward to a shower when this is over.”

Loki reached his seiðr into his pocket dimension. The Ergons had not replaced their Asgardian shackles when Muthrun and Loki had been brought aboard, which was a wonderful oversight on the smuggler’s part as Loki had been given the spare key before they’d been bound. He produced it now and unlocked first his own cuffs, then Muthrun’s.

“Does your plan have more to it than this?” She asked, massaging the rubbed skin of her wrists. “Because I am not impressed so far.”

“Yes,” Loki rolled his eyes. He stepped from their cell and Muthrun followed. She took a moment to stretch in the wider space as Loki hurried to the hold’s entrance. He figured they had some time before anyone would notice the dead guards’ absence, but he wasn’t going to count on it. “We’ll take one of the escape pods. With luck, Heimdall will have headed my request to unlock The Cube by then and we will be whisked away to safety. Otherwise, we hope there is an inhabited planet or station within travel distance.”

“That is a poor plan.”

Loki sent Muthrun an irritated huff.

She continued, “Kormat will recapture us. Or shoot us down.”

“Ah!” Loki held up a finger. “But he will be too busy dealing with his own calamities to bother with the two of us.”

Loki paused for dramatic effect and Muthrun waved a hand, encouraging him to get on with it.

“Did Valkyrie ever tell you how Asgard met its end?”

“Surtr made good on zher promises.”

“Yes, but it was I who set him free.” Loki smirked, tapping the door open. “Wait here for my signal then meet me at the escape pods.”

“And what is your signal?”

“Why, the emergency alarms, of course.”

 

~~~

 

The Ergon ship had little logic to its construction, hallways twisting and turning in strange patterns. Invisible, Loki’s seiðr sense was something of a boon, the hallway sprawling before him in a spiderweb of energy currents, veins of power twisting along the wires and piping embedded into the walls. He reached out as he went, feeling for the flow of power, letting it lead him through the ship’s mazework corridors. He needed to find the source, needed to find the engine room.

He followed the current as it turned left, then down a flight of cramped stairs, but had to pause on the bottom landing. The bright forms of three Ergons were approaching in the corridor beyond. Loki held his breath, willing them to pass the stairs by.

“Do you think she’ll call?” one asked.

“Course she will!”

“She ain’t gonna call,” the third voice drawled.

“Hey!” The second squawked. It had stopped walking by Loki’s doorway, its aura spiking with irritation. The others stopped, too, their bulky frames filling the cramped hall. “She’s gonna call, alright? It hasn’t been that long.”

“Only a fortnight,” number one said.

“More like two weeks,” three chuckled.

Loki tried very hard not to sigh.

“She’s gonna call, okay? Bhavik is in to me.”

There was a steam pipe running beneath the Ergons’ feet. Loki crouched low, reaching between the legs of one of the brutes to brush a finger across the floor.

“You’ve only met her, like, three times.”

“Three very romantic times.”

“She served us drinks!”

“But she served mine first!”

A little tightening of the steam pipe’s energies and the pressure began to build. The Ergon above him shifted and Loki had to twist his arm to avoid the creature’s clawed foot.

“She only served you first ‘cause you were closer.”

“You’re only jealous she doesn't like you like she likes m--”

The pipe burst, blistering steam spewing into the hall. Loki pulled away quickly, only burning the tips of his fingers. The Ergon above him wasn’t so lucky. It screamed, its energies turning frantic. It stumbled away from the burst pipe as the other two darted in to help. With the three of them crowded to one side of the hall, Loki took the opportunity to slip by, his footsteps covered by the Ergon’s shouts.

The engines were to the aft of the ship, bottom level. Loki had to dodge patrolling Ergons as he went, pressing himself into shallow alcoves or ducking into empty rooms. Working blind, with only the twisting currents of seiðr to guide him, was difficult at the best of times, but moving quickly whilst so cloaked was especially challenging. Uneven flooring and thin walls were not always immediately apparent, and Loki very nearly fell into a guard when he tripped over a loose floor panel, and twice he turned to enter a doorway that, he discovered with impact, was merely a wall without the bright seiðr-glow of electrical wires.

He was on the third floor when the announcement came.

“Attention all personnel. The prisoners have escaped. Be on the lookout for two blue Xandanoids. I repeat--”

And suddenly dodging guards became a great deal more difficult.

Loki flung himself into the gap between two barrel-like pipes, tucking his arms close to his chest as several Ergons rushed past.

“Unit twelve, en route to the armory!”

_“Copy, Unit Twelve.”_

The Ergons’ excited anger disappeared around the bend and Loki let out a breath. He was nearly to the engine room, he could feel it thrumming beneath his feet. Hopefully Muthrun could take care of herself whilst he took care of this. With a bit of groping, he located a hatch at the end of the hall. It groaned as he heaved it open but if anyone heard they paid it no mind.

When he had closed the hatch again, clinging to a greasy ladder, he let his invisibility drop. Concentrating on the currents of seiðr was drumming up a headache, a throbbing that found its way to the ragged stump of his horn and settled there. Loki cupped one hand to it, pressing cold into the wound as he descended into dim below.

Steel support beams jutted from the floor in irregular intervals, cables dangling like vines. The Ergon’s Engine room was wider than that of the S.S. Asgard’s, housing three main cell banks instead of one towering column, though it was just as uncomfortably hot. Loki was no expert on fusion thrusters but the glowing, heavy tubework twisting overhead certainly looked impressive. This craft was clearly meant to go fast.

“Ah, this is going to be fun.”

He searched along the rows of glowing cells. The batteries fitted into cooling banks, liquid neon whisking away the excess heat of the thousands of fusion cells happily boiling in their pockets. T’would be a shame if anything happened to them…

Loki chuckled, tracing the pathways of the supercooling system to its source. A humming unit of fanning metal and tubes hung from the ceiling towards the back of the room. Condensation collected along its metallic sheets, steaming as the droplets fell upon the inlet tubes, freezing on the outlets.

Loki tapped his bottom lip. He could pull the same trick he’d done with the steam pipe, building the pressure within the cooling unit until it burst. But he wasn’t confident he could avoid being splashed by the machine’s contents. The heated plasma entering the cooling system would eat him to the bone and, while he doubted the sub-freezing neon would kill him, Loki suspected there was a limit to the cold a Jötunn could handle. He’d rather not test that limit now.

Well, Loki needn’t rely on magic for everything.

A little poking around and Loki discovered a coil of loose cables. He gave them a couple quick tugs, pleased to note their strength. Returning to the refrigeration unit, he wrapped one end of the cable about the cool outgoing tubes. He didn’t want to pull the tubes out directly, however, that would spill the contents squarely of his head. So he wrapped the cable halfway around one of the room’s support beams, creating a right angle from the cooling unit.

“I hope you have a good mechanic,” Loki said, and pulled. The cable creaked where it dragged against the support pillar, and Loki tightened his grip. It wasn’t enough. His feet were slipping on the floor, the humidity stealing his traction. He gritted his teeth. Planting his feet, Loki called upon the ice in his veins, freezing his feet to the metal floor. He drew on the moisture of the air, building up the rime until his stance was firmly rooted. As he did so, the heat of the room became all the more oppressive, seeping into his flesh.

He didn't let it overwhelm him, though, instead finding that excess warmth and pulling it into his lungs then, with a steady breath, pushing it out. Another breath, and another, the hot air passing his lips and the oppressive heat of the room falling away.

He found he was smiling. Thermotaugy, so much more than ice magic.

“All right.”

Feet stuck firm, Loki pulled the cord tight again. The coolant pipes groaned, the frozen condescension crackling off in flakes, the metal fittings bending under the strain, until, with a crack, the pipe burst.

Nigh immediately, the room filled with cold steam, billowing into every corner. Coughing, Loki dropped to the floor and melted the ice about his feet. He stayed low as he made for the exit, knowing the released neon would rise as it evaporated.

At least the room was less unbearably hot.

An alarm blared to life as he reached the ladder, red lights cutting through the dense fog. Loki held his breath as he flew up the steel rungs, shoving the exit hatch open with a bang. He could hear shouting down the hall and drew invisibility over himself as he scrambled out, clouds swirling in his wake.

“What has happened?!”

“The engines! Something’s wrong!”

Two Ergons raced down the hallway, pulling up short as they caught sight of the rising fog.

“Shit! Is that smoke? Shit!”

“Doesn’t smell like smoke.”

Loki kept close to the wall, dancing around the aliens as they panicked.

“Grab an extinguisher and mask! Quick!”

Loki had to press himself against the pipework as the second Ergon ran for supplies. The first paced by the hatch, swearing.

Loki fell in step behind, using the Ergon’s footfalls to mask his own before veering off down another corridor. He could hear yet more deckhands shouting their confusion. They would flock to the engine room with tools and curse words, looking for fire where there was none.

At least, none yet.

Loki couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up from his chest. Those fusion cells wouldn’t stay stable long.

 

~~~

 

He was on the second level by the time the explosion rocked the ship, violent enough to send him slamming to the floor. The ship had been plunged into darkness, sparse emergency lights taking over for the overheads. Yet more alarms started up, announcing the switch to backup power as the ship shuddered and groaned. Shouts of anger and confusion echoed from every direction, and Loki laughed.

Honestly, this was almost better than his first plan!

Loki didn’t bother with invisibility anymore, casting only a simple notice-me-not charm. With everyone running about in a panic, they would be unlikely to spare enough scrutiny to see through the concealment.

Now, the escape pods.

Loki danced through the corridors, dodging rushing Ergons. He tripped a few as he went, just for fun.

Where were the pods? Where, where where? They’d be along the outside of the ship.

Loki turned right, jogging down the corridor and, soon, caught sight of a sign, _‘emergency escape,’_ with an arrow pointing to the left.

_Excellent!_

The corridor opened into the middle of a long room. Small windows and oval hatches lined the wall opposite him, red emergency lights pulsing above each door. Muthrun stood by one, growling at the security panel. It beeped at her, a mournful tone, and with a shout she tore it, sparking, from its fittings. The hatch remained closed.

“Muthrun!” Loki announced himself.

The Giant turned, teeth bared, as she searched the room. Loki dropped his spellwork, and her eyes landed on him with a start.

“Where were you?” She growled. Blood, not all of it hers, clung to her skin in frozen flecks.

“Just setting off a nuclear meltdown. Do you need some help with that?” He grinned, gesturing to the gutted security panel.

Muthrun grunted, stepping to the side.

The panel was quite destroyed and bleeding its currents into the air. Loki moved down the row and started poking at the next one.

“What kind of escape pod needs security clearance?” Loki griped, swiping through the touchscreen.

“Some of Kormat’s cargo is less than willing,” Muthrun said. Her lip was split and fresh blood trickled down her chin as she spoke.

“Truly a paragon of modern piracy,” Loki murmured. The security panel needed an eye scan. Dammit, he should have thought of this, made a point to study one of the Ergon’s retina.

“Hurry up.”

“Hush, I’m concentrating.” He would be able to crack it, just needed to sink his thoughts into the computer’s code, feel out the answers it was seeking.

“You must hurry, we don’t--”

“YOU!” In the doorway stood Captain Kormat, sharp teeth displayed, spines erect and quivering with rage. It clutched a flamethrower in both hands, the same one it had greeted Loki with back on Vertex. “YOU DID THIS!”

Several more guards flanked their captain, pouring into the room.

“Open the hatch!” Muthrun shouted, moving to stand between Loki and the approaching Ergons.

“Right, yes.” Loki redoubled his efforts, pushing his seiðr into the circuitry. The digital mind, simple though it was, grumbled at the intrusion. It didn’t quite know what to make of him, his methods far removed from the if-this/then-that of the usual inquiries the program fielded. Loki methodically felt out the flow of its logic, circling the hidden answer it so jealously guarded from intruders.

A roar.

Loki fell out of his trance, attention drawn to the fight behind him. One of the Ergons had flanked Muthrun and had driven a sizzling half-pike into her thigh. Before the Ergon could draw back to strike again, Muthrun had snatched the brute up by the skull, her freezing touch quickly stilling the creature’s struggles. Another Ergon darted in, an energy dagger clutched in either hand. Muthrun brought the corpse of it’s comrade down on its head, slamming the both of them to the floor.

“Clear!” Kormat commanded. It’s minions jumped from Muthrun as their captain leveled the flamethrower.

“No!” Loki shouted, hand outstretched to blind the Captain with an illusion, but the Ergon had already pulled the trigger, a gout blue-hot fire engulfing the giant.

The flames crashed into her as she hunched against the heat, as she screamed.

No. Not a scream. A roar. A primal howl of battle-rage as the fire swirled over her flesh, sunk into the ley lines of her body. The lines glowed with seiðr, like rivers of lava, the blue of her skin bleeding to red and black.

Kormat released the trigger, its grin full of sharp teeth, but its triumph faltered as the Giant unfolded, flames dancing along her ley lines.

She let out a slow breath, smoke curling from between her lips.

“What--”

Muthrun charged, bashing two Ergons to the floor as she made for Kormat. The Captain shouted, again bringing his flamethrower to bear, but Muthrun did not pause. The fire swirled around her, into her, and collected in her palms as she grabbed the Ergon by the throat. Kormat screamed, his leathery hide smoking as she poured his own flames into his flesh. The others shouted, threatened, but were too afraid to close on the towering Fire Giant.

Loki grinned in surprise. _Thermotaugy. So much more than ice magic!_

Taking advantage of the gruesome display, Loki slipped up behind one of Kormat’s minions. He conjured one of his blades and slid it into the creature’s jugular. It gurgled, slumping as it struggled to keep its lifeblood from draining away. Futile.

Muthrun had turned her attention on the rest. They did their best to keep out of reach, to keep her at bay with lunges and threatening points, but Muthrun was beyond pain. She batted aside blades with her bare hands, melted weapons with her grip, turned living flesh to charred meat.

Loki dragged his victim to the security panel, heaving its dead weight to bring the creature’s eye in line with the security scanner.

_‘Please hold still for scan,’_ a chirpy voice requested.

The Ergon in his grip gurgled, it’s eyes sliding into the back of its head.

“Bloody, damn thing,” Loki grumbled, pinning the thick creature against the wall with his hip as he pulled its heavy head up from where it had fallen to its chest.

“BACKUP!” One of the guards, one of only three remaining, shouted into a communicator. “We need backup in the starboard escape bay! We-- ugh!” Muthrun threw Kormat’s smouldering body into the guard, knocking it flat.

Loki pried open his victim’s lids, dragging the eye down for the scan. A triumphant beep heralded his success and the hatch to his right slid open.

“Muthrun!” Loki shouted, letting the Ergon’s corpse drop to the floor.

Most of the fire had left her skin, though her ley lines still burned with heat. She gathered the remaining energy into her palms, throwing the flames at the last of the guards as she followed Loki through the hatch.

The interior was rounded and cramped and Loki had to crawl over the two passenger seats to reach the pilot’s chair. There was little room in the cockpit, and Loki had to hunch to keep his horn from digging into the ceiling panels. With a swipe of his hand, the dashboard lit up, holograms rising to overlay the windshield. He picked through the glowing display, searching for some way to initiate launch. The sound of scraping metal sent a jolt up his spine and he turned to find Muthrun tearing the passenger seats from the floor. She spared him only a glance as she tossed the ruined chairs back into the bay, kneeling where they had once sat.

“Comfortable?” Loki raised a brow.

“No.”

The launch button was down and to the right, blinking a cheery green. Loki jabbed it.

The hatch behind them slid closed and the pod shuddered.

_“Please fasten your seat belts,”_ a mindless voice requested.

Loki glanced behind to the torn ruins of the passenger seats, then to himself, his limbs folded at uncomfortable angles.

“Override,” he said, pressing the launch button again. “Override, override, just bloody go!”

_“Launch in three… Two… One…”_

Loki was thrown into and over the short backrest, tumbling into Muthrun who, in turn, slammed into the back of the pod with a bang. She wheezed as Loki extracted himself from her bruised gut. He felt the need to apologize, but refrained.

With the initial acceleration over, he stumbled back to the pilot’s chair. His neck was sore and there was a deep gouge in the headrest, white padding spilling out. He reached up, pulling matching fluff from his one good horn. He massaged the twisted muscles in his neck.

These things would be the death of him.

“Must… go,” Muthrun gasped out. “Shoot... at us.”

Loki rather thought the Ergons would be too busy putting out various fires to turn their weapons on their erstwhile prisoners, but he was plenty eager enough to leave, regardless. The pod had spun round, bringing the Ergons’ ship into view. The aft burned and smouldered, arches of plasma drifting into the darkness of space. Other pods jettisoned as Loki watched, the flare of thrusters like falling stars.

Loki leaned against the backrest and summoned the medallion once more, testing it with his magic. It shuddered for a moment, then fell still, just as lifeless as before. Sighing, he sent the medallion back into his pocket dimension and climbed back into his seat, knees nearly touching his chest as he drew up the local star map. The crackle of the Ergons’ distress signals crawled through the pod’s speakers. Loki muted it.

“There isn’t much around here,” Loki said, tapping star systems and pulling up planetary data. “The closest inhabited system is well over a week away. There’s the jumpgate, though. We might be able to slip through in the wake of another ship.”

Muthrun grunted, leaning over to swipe at the display. “Here,” she said, pulling up the spinning image of a gas giant. She tapped at one of its moons, zooming in.

Loki read over the description with a frown. “Habitable, but there’s nothing there. We’d be stranded.”

“No.” Muthrun turned the display and circled a small landmass to the south. “Trading post here.”

“It’s not on the map.”

"Not the sort of establishment you put on a map. Passed through it on the way to Vertex.”

“Very well,” Loki said, dragging the moon’s coordinates into the pod’s navigational display. “Let us hope you’ve fewer ‘friends’ there than Vertex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: a heck of a lot of violence!


End file.
